


Finding Her

by Sumthinelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumthinelse/pseuds/Sumthinelse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you let him kiss you?” he hissed. She slapped him as hard as she could.  He grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall.  <br/>Oliver has trouble finding his humanity after the duel in Nanda Parbat and Felicity has trouble accepting the man who returned. Finding each other proves more difficult than expected when Oliver starts behaving out-of-character. Written during hiatus, spoilers through 3x13**Trigger Warning** This fic contains graphic depictions of violence and non-consensual sexual contact.  **Mind the Rating</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you let him kiss you?” he hissed. She slapped him as hard as she could. He grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall.  
> Oliver has trouble finding his humanity after the duel in Nanda Parbat and Felicity has trouble accepting the man who returned. Finding each other proves more difficult than expected when Oliver starts behaving out-of-character. Written during hiatus, spoilers through 3x13**Trigger Warning** This fic contains graphic depictions of violence and non-consensual sexual contact. **Mind the Rating

The week after she’d received the news of Oliver’s death at the hands of Ra’s Al Ghul, Felicity found herself the recipient of several unexpected visits and even more unexpected kisses. Somehow, she was understood by all of the parties, to be ‘the widow’ to Oliver and the Arrow. The first kiss had come from Roy, he’d hugged her after Malcolm Merlyn’s visit and kissed her, gently on the forehead, the way Oliver had. She knew he was trying to step up into Oliver’s shoes and wondered if he had been asked to watch out for her. He was such a serious young man, and usually so formal she’d been surprised but pleased by the gesture.

Her second kiss had been Quentin Lance. He’d stopped by her offices late in the evening. She’d greeted him politely, referring to him, as usual, as ‘Detective’.

            “When we last spoke,” he said in a low voice, “I know you said our mutual friend wasn’t coming back.” He watched her features pinch; eyes briefly squinting, nose wrinkling and mouth tightening. His own face fell. “You meant that he isn’t coming back ever, right?”

            “Correct,” she said, clearing her throat.

            “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me whose grave I should bring flowers to?” His lightly Midwestern accent reminded her of Chicago.

            “There’s no grave. No funeral. No memorial.” She licked her lips and cleared her throat again. “I’m sure you know he works with others, we’d like people to still believe he’s around for as long as possible.”

            “Who knows he’s gone?”

            “You’re one of about half a dozen in the city. The League of assassins is…aware.” When he stared at her she looked away. She couldn’t tell him what had happened, but allowing him to know of the league’s involvement meant he’d understand just how dead a man could be. He reached a long arm out and clasped her shoulder.

            “Were you…close?”

            “Yes.”

            “I’m sorry for your loss.” She nodded and to her surprise, he stepped close to her, forcing her to look up into his face. She always forgot how tall he was. “Let me know what I can do to help out.” He kissed her briefly, on the cheek. It was a gesture of respect, man-to-woman, as if she were wearing black and standing in a receiving line at a memorial service. He nodded to her awkwardly and turned, making his way out.

            The next visit was from Nyssa. She was dressed casually but elegantly, of course. She’d sat down in a café across from Felicity and waited while the blonde glanced around nervously before deciding it was unlikely the assassin was there to kill her. She placed one of her graceful hands on the table and nodded, formally.

            “Felicity Smoak, M.I.T., class of ’09.” Her face didn’t reveal even the slightest hint of humor but Felicity still thought she was messing with her.

            “Nyssa, heir to the demon,” she replied, seeing the other woman’s face relax slightly. “What are you doing here?”

            “I came to give my condolences and to ask you something,” she said.

            “I’d feel better about listening if I could see both your hands.”

            The corner of Nyssa’s mouth twitched with amusement but she complied, folding her fingers and gently tapping her thumbs together. They both knew that someone who’d been raised by the world’s deadliest assassin could figure out how to kill a computer nerd whether or not her hands were visible.

            “I do not believe your Oliver was responsible for Sara’s death.”

            “Why not?” She didn’t correct her on the ‘ _your Oliver’_.

            “I do not think Sara would have hesitated in ending her life if she wished to die. I also do not believe she would have asked someone she cared about to do it. She wasn’t selfish.”

            “Neither was Oliver,” Felicity said. She fought the urge to tell her that Merlyn was responsible and was nearly angry enough to let Thea, the vapid and childish girl who’d walked willingly into the arms of the devil, pay the consequences. “He issued the challenge and your father accepted his confession.” Her voice squeaked a little. “How you feel about his guilt is irrelevant.” Felicity knew she risked the wrath of an experienced killer but she also guessed that Assassins had a code of honor and that Nyssa _would_ hesitate before violating the trial.

            “Do you believe Oliver killed Sara?”

            “Don’t go looking for a third party. Oliver’s death is the only one your league will get if I can help it.” She stood up, feeling light-headed with fear. Nyssa raised an elegantly arched brow. She was clearly not intimidated by Felicity.

            “You wish to make an enemy of the League?”

            “No, but I wish Oliver wasn’t dead,” she said, gathering up her purse and car keys. “I wish you didn’t follow archaic beliefs to the letter; I believe in shades of gray.” She stood her ground as Nyssa rose to her feet. “And I wish you a safe journey home. Today if possible.”

            “I have no further business here.” Nyssa moved to walk past Felicity and stopped, briefly. “Until next time.” She leaned in and Felicity turned, realizing too late that she’d been about to kiss her on the cheek. The kiss landed on the corner of her mouth and the assassin smiled at her childish blush. Watching the daughter of Oliver’s killer walk away, she wondered if anyone could smell the sweat that soaked her shirt underneath her jacket.

            Felicity called Laurel to notify her of Nyssa’s visit. Then she went out for sushi, because she rarely did and wanted to be away from any of her usual haunts. She requested one of the private tables that were partially obstructed by a rice-paper screen. Seated with some privacy, she sat with her smaller tablet open and amused herself with funny cat videos to take her mind off more serious events. Her server, a slender young man who looked like he was in his early twenties bowed to her, briefly and set down a dark red ceramic flask with two cups and a lemon wedge. She took a deep breath and wondered if other league members had decided they didn’t want anyone to challenge the will of the Heir. She was surprised when Malcolm Merlyn stepped around the screen and into view.

            “Good evening, Miss Smoak.”

Felicity had believed him to be fleeing the area once he’d delivered his news and she’d hurled the blame at his feet. Seeing him now she was reminded that the resemblance he shared with Tommy was almost insulting to Oliver’s dead friend. Tommy had been a very attractive man: piercing blue eyes, thick dark hair; a real triumph of genetics. She had been near Malcolm Merlyn few times, and the most recent was when he’d given her the sword that killed Oliver and she’d wished him dead. Up close, she saw Tommy for the pale copy he was.

            Malcolm Merlyn was the sharp, radiant image; bigger, stronger, more deadly and more magnetic. His charisma was its own trap. As much as she hated him for being the indirect instrument of Oliver’s death, Felicity had found herself drawn to him in the foundry. She wasn’t attracted to him as a man, but when he told her he could see how much she had loved Oliver, she couldn’t help but be a little flattered that he’d noticed her.

            “Mr. Merlyn, what are you doing here?” she asked. She wished she had sounded less surprised and curious. She wished she’d thought up something mean to say. Mean but classy like an old Hollywood insult. She glanced at the flask and then back up at him.

            “You can throw it at me if you like,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “But you might want to try it first. It’s called ‘Demon Slayer’.” He inclined his head and she gestured to the chair opposite her. “I grew to enjoy observing the traditions of the culture whenever I was in Japan.” He spoke to the server in Japanese, keeping his voice low and casual.

            “Did you follow me here?”

            “Yes.” He smiled briefly and handed her the cup, pouring for her.

            Felicity waited for him to sit and then she poured for him. She knew very little about Japanese traditions; she did know that you didn’t fill your own cup, and you used two hands to show respect. She observed the ritual out of stubborn pride; she didn’t want to appear ignorant. He raised his cup and touched it briefly to hers. “I didn’t poison it.”

            “Good to know.” She sipped the drink and put the cup down.

            “I understand you’ve recently met with the Heir to the Demon.” She’d guessed that two visits from two different assassins in one day was no coincidence.

            “Nyssa and I spoke, yes.”

            Merlyn kept a pleasant, half-smile on his face and held her gaze. She understood what unnerved her so much about him. His stillness. She was a fidgeter: a pen-biter, an earring flicker, and a drummer of fingernails. He kept every facial muscle as still as a Botox-injected, Orange County housewife.

            “Would you mind me asking what she wanted?”

            “She likes blondes, surely you saw her kiss me.” Her attempt at sarcasm didn’t go over well.

            “I kept my distance considering my relationship with the league.” He raised his eyebrows, “She really kissed you?”

            “Third person this week, actually, seems like everyone wants to share their condolences. Unless it’s my new perfume,” she said, tilting her head to the side, considering it. “I’m going to go with the condolences.” She smiled at him and waited. He waited too and had far more patience than she.  “I’m okay with the league hunting you for the crimes you’ve committed, I made that clear, but Oliver went to his death for Thea’s sake so I wouldn’t have done anything to endanger _her_.” Deciding that Malcolm Merlyn wasn’t the company she wanted to keep for too long, she stood up, excusing herself and thanking him for the sake. She picked up her purse and tablet; he stood and stepped into the narrow aisle between the tables, partially blocking her exit. He stood quickly and smoothly, sliding into her path before she could stop. She managed to avoid bumping into him, but just barely. Her cheek was inches from his collar, and his mouth was inches from her ear.

            “I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he said quietly and leaned close enough for her to feel his breath. “I am truly sorry for your loss.” He sounded sincere and tilted his head, pressing his lips, ever so gently, to hers. She was so startled that she didn’t move back. The slight, warm pressure of his mouth was brief, and not unpleasant. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Your perfume is delicious.” He stepped to the side and held out his hand to let her pass. She walked to the door without a backwards glance and managed to avoid walking into traffic.

            Felicity hadn’t remembered people giving her kisses when Cooper Sheldon had been reported dead. His criminal activity likely made her less-desirable company. She opted to remain at arm’s length from Ray Palmer on the off-chance she was giving off some kind of grief pheromone; she also avoided calling Barry Allen for the same reason. The sweet young man would want to comfort her and she feared what might happen between them. She sent a text to the only other person who might know how she felt.

The knock on Felicity’s door came after ten and when she saw Laurel Lance on her doorstep holding a bottle of vodka, she’d stepped to the side and let the other woman in. The bottle was Grey Goose and had clearly spent some time in a freezer. It was so cold it poured out like oil into the shot glasses Felicity had supplied. She knew Laurel was on the wagon but tonight, of all nights, she understood the need for a drink and didn’t preach.

“So people have been kissing you?” she asked, holding up the glass. “Happened to me when the boat went down.” She downed the shot. “When people don’t know what to say, but they want to make a connection, they get handsy…lipsy too.”

“Lipsy?” Felicity asked. Laurel shrugged and re-filled.

“Was Nyssa a good kisser?”

“It was so quick, I couldn’t tell,” Felicity stared at the wall and took her own shot. “Malcolm Merlyn was the only one to score directly on the mouth.”

“He really walked right into the restaurant?”

“Yeah, I think people believe him to be dead so they don’t expect to see him.”

“Did he creep you out?”

“Yeah, but I think that was his intention.” She poured and downed another. “Can I ask you something about Oliver?” Felicity asked. “Something personal?”

“Phenomenal.” Laurel didn’t turn her head, she just drained her glass and stared at the wall. “Relentless. Controlled. Focused.” Felicity was embarrassed that her alcohol-lubricated question had been so transparent. “It’s okay,” Laurel said, gently. “I’ve been through this before and there’s no rhyme or reason to the strange thoughts that pop into your head when someone dies.”

“I remember when news of my college boyfriend’s death came,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It changed who I was.” She shrugged, “Turns out he’d just turned into a criminal.” She saw Laurel’s head bob backwards and hit the cushion of the couch before lolling to the side to look at her. “What is it with boyfriends not staying dead?” The comment brought the sad parallels up and they both chuckled; a desperate surge of humor to connect on a shallow level.

“He and I-” She bit her lip and tossed down her own vodka before continuing, “-never actually did…anything.”

“He was in love with you,” she said, without more than a tiny trace of resentment. “I could tell the way Diggle and Roy acted around you. Like you were the widow.”

“I kinda wish we had,” she said. “It might be harder to miss that too, I mean, I’m missing what could’ve happened but truthfully he’d decided it was too much of a risk before I’d even had a chance to get a grope.”

“He was even better when he came back,” she said, gloomily. “I’m sorry if that hurts to hear.”

“Not much _doesn’t_ hurt, but it’s like a sore muscle, you have to keep working it till you can stand the pain.”

“That’s not your best metaphor.”

“You gave me Grey Goose.”

“Good point,” Laurel let out a weird giggle/cough and poured them each another shot. “Want details?”

“It’s one of the things I couldn’t guess about him,” Felicity said.

“Okay, since we’re drunk, and I can’t imagine having this conversation with anyone else, I’ll tell you.”

“You said ‘Relentless’,” she said, licking her lips. “Sounds kind of…rough.”

“It is a little,” the pretty lawyer said, regarding her glass philosophically. “Intense might be a better word. It didn’t seem like making love.” She frowned. “It’s not a term I like very much, too poetic.”

“I concur.”

“Relentless and focused like he’s chasing something.” She poured another shot and turned the glass in her hands, watching the clear spirits. “I used to think guys who let me finish first were chivalrous, but with him, he _made_ me orgasm. Like he was waging war on my libido, not to mention my clitoris.”

Felicity snorted but let Laurel continue.

“And once I came, it was like, ‘Okay the battle’s been won,’ and then he went for it like mad and with his stamina… God, I was ready to pass out when he finally came.”

“Did he shout?”

“Before the island, he was a talker, afterward, really quiet.”

“Fucks like he’s keeping a secret,” Felicity mumbled, pouring another shot and downing it while Laurel sputtered over hers.

“Oh my God, that’s it!” She looked incredulous, “That’s exactly what it was like!”

“Kissed that way too.”

            “Oh, his mouth;” Laurel said wistfully, “guy was a champion peach-eater.” It was Felicity’s turn to choke. She laughed and wiped vodka off her chin.

            “Seriously?”

            “Lord, yes. Catch him in the right mood and he’s down there all day.” She quirked her head to the side. “I think he had his own term for it.” Her pretty brow wrinkled with concentration. “Pearl diving!” she snapped her fingers triumphantly.

            After they’d decided they’d had enough, Laurel had taken a cab home. They’d said goodnight without any sappy acknowledgements about future coffee dates or keeping in touch.

~

            Seeing Oliver for the first time was a painful surprise. In the moments of recognition and realization, a sharp tingle ran through her chest and down her arms. She placed her hand on her desk and felt discomfort on the very tips of her fingers as her nervous system stopped firing frantically. She embraced him; hearing the news that he was alive was different than touching him, smelling him, hearing his voice in her ear. She thought nothing could upset her that evening; the Glades had been taken back, Brickwell was in jail, and Oliver was alive and well.

            As Felicity turned her car onto the main road, she cried silently, letting the tears fall freely. She didn’t want to hear Oliver’s explanation and she didn’t want to see his face. She drove directly to her apartment and sat in her driveway for several minutes, hunched over the steering wheel and crying. She couldn’t seem to stop so she stumbled, half-blinded, to her door. Once inside, she shed her jacket, shoes and purse. She plugged in her phone and went to the bathroom, turning on her shower. She grabbed a tissue from the box beside the sink and blew her nose, loudly. She undressed and stepped into the shower without looking in the mirror. She guessed she looked ghastly with a red, blotchy face and runny eye makeup.

            Felicity sat on the floor of the bathtub and rested her forehead on her knees. She cried loudly, for several minutes before she was able to stop the flow of tears. Catching her breath she let the water run down her face, taking most of her makeup and the mess from her eyes and nose with it. She washed quickly and wrapped herself in her fluffiest towel, rubbing her wet hair with a smaller one before combing it out. She tucked in the edges of the towel to secure it and padded, barefoot to her bedroom. She pulled on her pajama pants, t-shirt, and socks before crawling under her covers. She curled up and focused on her breathing before, eventually, falling asleep.

            Adjusting to life back in Starling was harder than Oliver expected. Not having Felicity’s affection and support pained him, physically. He ached for her when she wasn’t around and when she was close to him it was worse. He couldn’t reach out to her, couldn’t touch her, hold her, talk to her. She didn’t ignore him, but the easy smiles she had for Diggle and Roy left her face when their eyes met. She seemed tired when she looked at him. Too tired to make the corners of her mouth go up.

            To make matters worse, Oliver, after recovering his strength, still felt like something wasn’t right. The training with Merlyn took a lot out of him; working with the man who’d murdered so many and endangered his sister chipped away at his soul and sanity. He was getting angry and short-tempered, around Felicity it was even worse. She disregarded his orders and occasionally her own safety. He was afraid she was lashing out at him the only way she could.

            ~

            Felicity was squatting behind a stack of wooden pallets when her phone rang and the quartet of men in front of her turned around. Felicity bolted from her hiding spot and sprinted for the side door. She heard shouts and footsteps behind her but didn’t stop. As her hand closed over the knob, a heavy weight crashed into her and she was seized by her shoulders and thrown to the floor. She was dragged to her feet and flung against the wall, which made her ears ring when her head bounced off the thin metal.

“Who do you work for?” snarled the heavy, bald man who’d had the loudest voice.  

“I didn’t think you’d be the first one to the door,” she babbled. “Really, you’re much faster than you look.” The back of a leather-gloved hand connected with a smart slap against the side of her face. It stung a little, and tears sprung to her eyes, not from pain but from the upset feelings it brought up. There was something so _mean_ about slapping a person’s face but she still hated herself for tearing up.

She really didn’t think she should be blamed since she hadn’t had a lot of practice keeping tears at bay while being slapped. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” she said, blowing out a deep breath. Her tears dried up with barely a sniffle as she realized what she’d just said; it had worked however, to keep from dissolving into a blubbering mess. The thought of her nose reddening while her lips got blotchy and trembled in front of this thug made her bold. “You were kinda phoning that one in, weren’t you?”

“Bitch,” said ‘Chub Thug’ the nickname she’d given him. He drew back his fist and paused, smiling at her before his hand jerked suddenly and sprouted the shaft and fletching of a green arrow. It appeared between the knuckles of his third and fourth fingers.

“Oh, Shi-” her curse was drowned out by the scream of agony that came from Felicity’s assailant followed by shouts from the other three who’d stood back while she’d undergone the slapping. Above her, the metal staircase that led to offices vibrated and The Arrow dropped into sight. “I am so screwed,” she whispered to herself. Two more arrows came from another dark corner of the warehouse where she guessed Roy was concealed.

‘Chub’ grabbed her with his good hand while the one man who hadn’t been hit by arrow or arrow-borne restraint drew his gun. Oliver seized Felicity’s attacker by his collar, turning his back to the gun-wielding man who aimed at his red-suited companion. The bald man’s head was starkly white until it penetrated the window beside the door where Felicity stood. Initially there was a pattern of cuts that looked like eggshell cracks from a spoon until they bloomed and widened into a bloody mess at her feet.

Oliver trembled with rage; he seized Felicity’s jacket lapels and jerked her forward. She put her hands up against his chest to stop her forward momentum but they folded, thankfully at the elbows.

“Behind you,” shouted Arsenal. He had engaged with the gunman who showed surprising resilience for a man with two arrows in his shoulder. A fifth man had come into view and trained his pistol on Oliver who turned and sent an arrow into his wrist, elbow and shoulder. All five were on the floor and bleeding or unconscious when he turned his attention back to Felicity. She couldn’t see his eyes but still averted her gaze. He seized her chin and forced her to look at him.

“Do you have any idea-” he began, only to be cut off by the sound of a truck’s engine outside the warehouse. Headlights illuminated his face through the window for a second and Felicity was frightened by his expression. Roy joined them, doubt stalling his steps towards an obviously pissed archer, until they heard multiple voices outside.

“Felicity get out of here,” he said, breaking Oliver’s grip unexpectedly. He took her by the arm, aiming and shoving her in the direction of the door across the warehouse, where she’d first entered.

“Pray I don’t find you tonight.” The words were spat by Oliver. He spun his bow and fitted an explosive arrow to the string.

Felicity didn’t wait any longer and hit the door running. She went to her car which was parked behind a large van, and jumped into the driver’s seat. When she turned the key, the sky lit up with an explosion and she froze for a second, wondering if Oliver had shot the gas tank since the fireball seemed bigger than usual. She slammed the car into gear and high-tailed it out of the area. Once her heart slowed down Felicity debated going back to the foundry but decided she didn’t want Roy to witness a shouting match between herself and Oliver and turned around, retracing her route.

Roy would probably try to calm things down; he’d obviously noticed the change in his bow-toting partner since his return from the dead over a month ago. Oliver had seemed to be pretty normal except for his emotions. He hadn’t been the most outwardly emotive guy since she’d known him, but he was even less so now, as if the volume had been turned down. When it came to Felicity, however, things seemed to dial up to eleven. He couldn’t keep his head around her, either moody and depressed or raging when they had disagreements.

Felicity went home and crawled into bed. She’d been too busy with her job, vigilante activities and Ray Palmer’s plans to examine her own emotions. She got up and poured herself a large glass of red wine, drinking it quickly enough to shudder at the acidic taste. She was usually a sipper. In the quiet hours when she chased sleep, she couldn’t hide from the pain and loneliness that plagued her. She loved him and he loved her; they were with each other regularly but couldn’t seem to find a common ground. She felt herself beginning to drift and hoped she could avoid dreaming.

            Felicity lay in bed, eyes open, heart hammering. She’d been asleep but something woke her and now her senses were alert. She reached for her glasses and put them on glancing around her bedroom. With her eyes adjusted to the dark and moonlight, diffused with fog, lighting up the room she could see fairly well. No color, just shades of gray and black. She stared at the shadow behind her door until it moved.

            “Do you know what could’ve happened tonight?” Oliver’s voice was rough and tired but angry. He stepped into the limited light in her bedroom. He had taken off his green leathers and wore just a t-shirt and jeans. Although she didn’t want to fight with him, she was secretly glad that she could still upset him. She wasn’t proud of wanting him to feel the same pain she did.

            “Yes, I could’ve been killed and I’m grateful that you came to save me.” Her tone was cool and formal. Oliver paused and tilted his head, it wasn’t the reply he’d expected. “I don’t make a habit of doing things like that but the warehouse _was_ closed for the night and I just needed to get to the main computer to plant a bug. I was going to run in and come back out.”

            “You shouldn’t have been there at all,” he approached the bed and stood over her. She felt vulnerable and pulled the covers up to her chin.

            “I’ve done it before,” she said, defensively.

            “You’ve what?” He stood very still and she was glad his eyes were in shadow.

            “Since you left we’ve been getting by with everyone taking on a little more work to cover the missing warm body.”

            “I’m back now.”

            “Great. I’m thrilled, especially about your timing tonight.”

            “Don’t lie to me, Felicity.” She straightened up, defensively. “You’re not thrilled I’m back, you hate me now and it’s causing problems when we work together.”

            “That’s not true,” she said. “I’m not having a problem working with you.” The hurt expression on his face was too much; it just wasn’t in her nature to take cheap shots at anyone. “And I don’t hate you,” she said with a sigh. He was so close she could smell him. Traces of sweat and leather mixed with other, manly scents she couldn’t identify. Her heart jumped and she wished she hadn’t had the wine. It made her vulnerable to her feelings.

            “ _I’m_ having a problem working together.”

            “Sounds like it’s _your_ problem, then.” Her voice was deadpan. She knew how bothered he was by her insensitivity but it was the only thing that protected her.

            “When we’re together,” he said, “Half the time I want to turn you over my knee for taking chances.”

            “Never going to happen,” she said, tartly. “And the other half?” Oliver leaned over her, looking her in the eye.

            “I want to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and… try to get you out of my system.” He was close to her now and her blanket-covered knees were the only thing protecting her. “You act like you don’t feel _anything_ for me anymore.”

            “I made my peace with your decision to avoid getting involved with me, regardless of our feelings. Then I grieved for you for weeks, trying to come to terms with the things we never did and when you finally walked back into the foundry, I was so happy. I’d bargained with myself not to let you push me away ever again if you just came back.” She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to hide her tears in the dark. “Then you told us your plans and I realized _my_ Oliver hadn’t come back. Maybe I was wrong and my Oliver never existed.” He reached for her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You compromised yourself in a way I can’t accept; regardless of empathizing with your reasons.”

            “I wish I didn’t hurt you…so often.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m still trying to save my city, and my sister, and you on occasion. I’m not perfect.”

            “You have crazy decisions to make, every single day.” She placed her hand against his chest. “I know you’re going through a lot and that you shoulder this impossible burden. I wanted to help you so that someday, in the future, you can lie down to sleep _without_ the burden.”

            “I can’t sleep at night because when I close my eyes, I see you. And I can’t have you.”

            Felicity looked down and took her hand back. Oliver stood up quickly from the bed and brought his hands up, running them over his short hair. He turned away from her and stood near the window. The ache Felicity felt in her chest compelled her to push back her blankets and swing her legs off the bed. She stood quickly and removed her glasses, setting them on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the few feet that separated them. She didn’t look up; she just put her arms around him. He enveloped her in his embrace, squeezing her tightly and resting his chin on top of her head.

            “Things can’t go on like this,” Felicity said. “One of us is going to end up in real trouble.”

            “Or the loony bin,” Oliver said, pressing his lips to her fragrant hair. He felt himself relaxing just by being close to her.

            “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” she asked, slightly muffled by his chest.

            “Thanks, but I’m not sure your couch is big enough.”

            “Not the couch.” Felicity looked up at him. “I meant, do you want to sleep here…with me.” She glanced behind her at the bed. Oliver looked at the bed with its rumpled covers and back at her.

            “It would be difficult to remain a gentleman if I were lying that close to you,” he said, giving her a small smile. “And I’m not sure the problems that might _arise_ are conducive to a good night’s sleep.”

            “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” Felicity asked, staring at the hollow of his throat. Oliver stopped smiling.

            “I don’t want to misunderstand you.”

            “I think you got the gist of my…offer.” She placed her hands on his hips and hesitantly moved them under his t-shirt, feeling his warm, smooth skin. She encountered scars and kept her touch light. She caught her breath when her hands moved up his muscular back. “I’ve been so afraid to touch you,” she whispered. He’d gone very still, hands still on her waist. “I see you too,” she said, looking up at him. “When I close my eyes, you’re always there.”

            “Felicity,” he looked uncertain. She placed her fingers on his lips, stopping his words.

            “Don’t say anything,” she said, stretching up onto her toes and placing her lips gently on his. “Maybe we can both get some sleep…afterwards.”


	2. Moving forward

Oliver had kissed Felicity just one other time, the night someone had aimed a missile at them in a restaurant.  She’d told him she hadn’t wanted to talk.  She’d told him to stop giving her hope for a future if there wasn’t one.  He’d more than understood her request and subsequent exit.  She’d never attempted to hide her feelings from him; either when she was angry or how much she cared.  It was one of the reasons it hadn’t bothered him much when she didn’t reciprocate his declaration of love. Now, in her bedroom, he was floored by her capacity to forgive and embrace him. 

                        All of Oliver’s pent-up emotions and sexual frustrations erupted at the touch of Felicity’s soft lips.  She kissed him, and it was only the second time their lips had met.  Her arms went around his waist and she swayed, trying to keep her balance while holding herself up on her toes in order to reach him.  A warm wave of emotion ran through him; Felicity was initiating their contact and it made him feel like he’d won the lottery.  He tightened his hold on her and kissed her back, sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt and he pulled it off, impatiently, pulling her top off as well.  Her small, perky breasts pressed against his chest, warm and soft. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards towards the very inviting bed.

            Oliver sat Felicity on the edge of her mattress and bent at the waist, cupping her face and trying to take enough of her kisses to ease his hunger while they moved forward.  Her fascinating and exciting mouth made him want to taste it for hours.  The rest of him was too impatient, and by the urgency of her hands on his belt, she was as well.  Felicity fought with the leather strap at his waist until Oliver’s hands intervened.  He pressed her onto her back, continuing to kiss her mouth and neck, moving down to her breasts.  He sucked and caressed them with his mouth and hands, and then he tugged her pajama pants down over her hips. 

            Felicity broke the kiss to reach down, grasping the front of Oliver’s jeans.  She made a ‘huh’ sound when she felt the stiff ridge under the zipper.  Her hands grew more frantic and they encountered an awkward moment when she tried to lift her hips to allow him to remove her bottoms while tugging at the button on his jeans.  They both chuckled before regrouping.  Felicity stood up and unfastened Oliver’s jeans while he dropped her pajama pants and panties.  She managed to get his jeans and boxer briefs worked over his hips before he brought them both back to the mattress.

            “Do you have anything?” he asked, working his pants down his buttocks and thighs.

            “Night stand drawer,” she said, knocking her head into his when they both reached for it at the same time. 

            “You okay?” he asked, rubbing his head.  He was the first to get his hand in the drawer.  He fumbled for a moment before finding the familiar square, foil packet. 

            “Mmph,” she said, rubbing her eyebrow.  “Bad timing.”

            “Need me to stop?” he froze, breathless.

            “If you do, you will never see me naked again.”

            Felicity pulled his face down for another kiss.  He kept his lips on hers with one foot counter-balancing his weight on the floor.  He pushed her thighs apart and managed to roll the condom on before falling on top of her.  He moved his hand between them and felt with his fingers until he found her slick center.  Sliding a finger inside, she arched her back and made a sound.

            “Um, has it been a while?” Oliver asked, stroking her tight passage.  His finger slid in and out smoothly but the fit was snug.

            “You could say that,” Felicity answered, groaning. 

            “Are we talking months or years?”

            “Do I ask you these questions?” she argued.

            “I seem to remember-”

            “Get it together, Queen!”

            “Right.”  Oliver added a second finger and used his thumb to rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her squeak.

            “Hurry up,” she panted, breaking out in a sweat.

            Oliver, moved down and pressed his mouth against her, licking and sucking until one of her legs jerked, striking his kidney with her heel. 

            “Ow,” he said, with a muffled voice.

            “Oh, sorry,” she said, chuckling.

“You don’t sound sorry,” he grunted, standing up and rubbing his back. 

Oliver looked down at Felicity; the moonlight gave her pale skin a pearly glow, he caught his breath and saw her eyes drop to his erection, jutting out from his body.

“O-okay,” she said and lifted her arms.  He fell into her embrace and hitched one of her legs up over his hip, and then he guided himself to the right spot.

“I love you,” he whispered, thrusting inside her. 

Felicity sucked in her breath as Oliver began moving inside her body.  They were really doing it, a little voice mused in the back of her head.  The feeling of a body moving heavily on her was unfamiliar; the uncomfortable sliding of his thickened, swollen flesh inside was strange.  He kissed her neck and jaw and she blew out a slow breath, relaxing her body.  The discomfort edged away, quickly and the friction between them started to bring warmth to her belly. 

Oliver kept his rhythm slow at first; Felicity rolled her hips up to meet him after he started to move freely.  Snug and hot, he loved feeling embedded in her body; he loved, even more, holding her beneath him.  Being this close to her, able to kiss and fondle her while her breath quickened and her grip on his shoulders tightened made him feel whole and human.  It was something he hadn’t felt since the Queen’s Gambit sank.  He wished he could turn on a light and see the flush in her cheeks that he caused.  He wanted to witness the change in her from excitement to bliss. 

Felicity’s legs tensed and gripped Oliver’s legs.  His jeans were still at mid-thigh, and she still wore her panties around one ankle.  He enjoyed the hurried nature of their coupling because it made him feel like she’d been unable to control her desire for him.  Buried deep within her body he felt her begin to quiver as she threw her head back and whispered his name.  He’d have preferred a scream but accepted what she offered.  He quickened his pace and she hugged him tightly to her while he thrust his way through his own climax, sucking at the side of her neck and her ear.  When he finally finished, she was limp on the mattress beneath him.  He tried to kick away his pants without withdrawing but the denim proved to complex an adversary and he eventually slid out of her limp, sated body. 

Oliver removed the offending garment and accepted the spot closest to the edge of the bed while Felicity scooted to the middle.  Her mattress seemed to be a pillow-top and he momentarily admired the soft surface with the firm structure beneath.  He would be able to perform on this bed better than some of the newer, tempurpedic mattresses which had no bounce.  He pulled his shorts back on and pulled her into his arms.  They both shifted around until finding the resting positions that suited them.  She lay on her side and he on his back with her tucked into his side.  She propped a pillow above his shoulder; it was a considerate gesture to prevent his upper arm from losing circulation when she rested her head on him. 

Felicity felt a pleasant tingle zinging through her blood.  She refused to think of anything except the blissful, post-orgasmic, cloud of happiness that draped her in a fog.  She closed her eyes and drifted off, smelling Oliver’s scent clinging to her body.

~

Oliver woke when Felicity left the bed.  His body felt heavy with fatigue but he was mentally energized.  He considered sneaking into the shower to offer back-scrubbing assistance.  He blinked and noticed that the room was sunnier than before.  He glanced at the clock and realized he’d fallen back to sleep.  It was nearly nine and his bed mate was gone so he searched around until he located his phone. 

_“You looked like you needed the rest-F”_

Oliver mused to himself that Felicity had been correct; he hadn’t slept so deeply in a long time.  He used her shower and returned to the apartment he shared with Thea and changed is clothes.  He went to the foundry and worked out, Diggle joined him before noon and they trained.  Roy arrived and Oliver left the two of them to spar while he went to check out the warehouse from the previous night.  The crime scene investigators had cleaned up so he left before anyone recognized him. 

Felicity forced herself to focus on work.  She was concerned that Oliver might take her actions the previous night as her acceptance of his choice to work with Merlyn.  She finished her meetings and tweaked a processor flaw in one of Ray Palmer’s designs.  She knew the signs; he was getting enthusiastic and obsessed.  She went to the foundry after receiving a text from Diggle. She had a list of chores to accomplish from the foundry basement.  She multi-tasked and set the Starling City PD database to search the criminal history of someone the Arrow was tracking.  She ordered some of Oliver’s custom arrows and sent an email to one of the previous suppliers about the CO2 cartridges being damaged in a recent order.  She could hardly explain that they hadn’t worked to properly tranquilize or bind people the way they should have, but she explained the defects and demanded a discount on the next shipment.

“Good evening, Miss Smoak.” 

Felicity turned around to face Malcolm Merlyn.  He stood a respectful distance behind her.  His hands were in his pockets and she found herself mildly insulted by the habit.  Putting his hands in his pockets left her in no doubt that he found her completely non-threatening.  She was tempted to empty his bank account on principle. 

“Mr. Merlyn.”  She turned and went back to work.  If he wanted to talk to her he could start the conversation.  She bit her lip instead of telling him that Oliver wasn’t there.  She had no doubt that the assassin knew exactly where each team member was.  He was either waiting to meet one, or there to speak with her.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she could have sworn she felt the ghost of a touch on her neck.  She rubbed it absently and adjusted her glasses.  She continued to check their medical inventory and decided to order more suture kits.  Laurel might change her mind about collecting scars. 

Oliver returned to the foundry after seven.  He was hungry, but getting drive-thru with his green leathers and hood hadn’t seemed like a great idea.  He entered the basement and was surprised to see Merlyn standing next to Felicity’s desk. 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said to the older man. 

“I didn’t let him in,” Felicity said, flatly.

Oliver removed his hood and put away his bow and quiver.  He had hoped to catch Felicity alone and didn’t try to hide his irritation.

“I had some information to share on our mutual friend.”

“You could’ve told Felicity,” he said and received a raised eyebrow from her in reply.  “Or not.”

“Miss Smoak isn’t entirely comfortable talking with me,” the older man said.  “I bought her a drink while you were gone, but my company might not have been what she was hoping for.”  Felicity turned in her chair and looked at the two archers.  “She didn’t seem to appreciate my condolences, or my kiss.”

Oliver couldn’t hide his reaction.  His gaze snapped to his pretty, blonde partner.  His jaw tightened and his posture stiffened.

“I saw that coming from a mile away,” she said, turning back to her monitor.  “Your stealthy wit could use a brush-up.”  She saw Merlyn turn to her in her peripheral vision.  She kept her own eyes trained on her computer screen.  She offered no explanations or denials, instead she picked up her purse and jacket and walked towards the stairs.  “I’m getting a Big Belly burger and going home.”

            Merlyn looked back to Oliver once Felicity left. 

            “You have to let her go and focus on your training.”

            “I didn’t stop her,” Oliver said, tightly. 

            “You know what I mean.”

            “I’m never sure that I actually do.”  He changed into battered cargo pants and pushed himself through some push-ups, feeling his hunger gnaw at him. 

            “You’re sleeping with her now, and you weren’t before.”

            “How could that possibly matter?” he asked, letting his irritability out. “If anything it should make me more relaxed, I certainly slept better.”  He didn’t bother to ask how Merlyn knew.

            “She must be very…sporting, in bed.”  He watched Oliver pause in his push-ups so he prodded further.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have ended things with just a kiss.” Oliver was on his feet and face to face with his current mentor in a second. 

            “What are you doing?” he asked.  “You’re provoking me about something personal that has nothing to do with training.”

            “Your personal feelings have everything to do with your training.”  Merlyn gestured to the pointed weapons and gear, “All of this equipment will be useless, all of your skills and training will be for nothing if you can’t block out your emotions.”

            “My feelings for Felicity have been there for a while.  Thea, Laurel, my mother, and Sara; they’ve all been used against me.  I know how it works but I can’t just shut my feelings away.”

            “It takes work and focus but it can be done.  You can’t commit to a duel, or a fight, when your heart is pulling you away.”

            “Why did you kiss her?”

            “See what I mean?”  Merlyn gestured, palm out, as if presenting his words to Oliver.  “You need to remove her from your heart, you need to let Diggle, Roy, Thea and everything else go.  You can’t let your attachments to this world control you.”

            “Find enlightenment?”

            “In a way, yes.” 

            “How?”

            “In the moment I told you I’d kissed Felicity, your attention was completely focused on her.  You saw nothing else for that split second except her face.”

            “I saw a man walk into an ambush because he heard his wife screaming for him.”  Oliver spoke softly, thinking about the past.  “No one could get near this guy; and then, suddenly, he ran right past the men waiting for him.  He saw nothing, heard nothing, he went mad with worry.”

            “My Rebecca,” Merlyn began, “had that effect on me.”  His voice still held sorrow.  “I left for Nanda Parbat in order to get control of myself.”

            “You still love her.”

            “Nothing could ever take my love for Rebecca.  I did, however, learn how to box those feelings up and put them aside.  There will always be time for love, time for grief, time for sex…unless you lose.”

            “What do I do?”

            “Tonight?  Go eat, go sleep, go make love if you want to.”  Merlyn shrugged and walked towards the stairs.  “This isn’t about denying yourself these things; it’s about being able to make those things unimportant when the time is right.”

            Oliver watched him leave and thought about his warning.  He pulled on a shirt and headed out.  He got the burger he’d been craving and drove to Felicity’s apartment to eat it.  She’d already changed into her nightgown.  It was plain, pink jersey and fell to her knees.  She wore a matching robe and fluffy, pink socks.

            “Nice jammies.”

            “I hear that from time to time.”  She held the door open and he walked in. 

            “Want some of my fries?”

            “I already have burger bloat,” she replied.  “Want a beer?”

            “If you’re having one.”

            “I can be convinced.” 

            Felicity joined Oliver at the kitchen counter and opened two bottles of beer.  Her hair was down around her shoulders and she was relaxed. Oliver dug into his burger and fries.  Sitting with her, just being with her while he ate his dinner was good.  A pleasant feeling came over him; he found himself wondering about their first date, the one during which they’d never even shared a drink.  If the night had ended differently, they might have had a second date, and eventually be right where they were now; drinking beer, side-by-side, in a warm kitchen.  

            Felicity’s ever-present laptop sat in front of her on the counter.  She rolled her shoulders and sighed quietly, eyes on the screen.  Oliver put his last bite in his mouth and swigged his beer before standing up and brushing off his hands on his jeans.  He moved behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.  Her skin was delicate compared to his rough, callused hands.  He rubbed gently, earning another sigh as she stopped typing and leaned back into his hands. 

            Euphoric warmth spread from Felicity’s skin through Oliver’s hands and up his arms.  He felt his chest swell with emotion.  She was brilliant like the sun, or a diamond and he had been shielding himself from her radiance for too long.  He pressed his lips to the back of her neck; her shoulders lifted gently with her sharp inhalation.  He slid his hands down her arms and around her waist, moving his lips to the side of her neck and down to her nape.  She reached up and brought her arms around his neck, arching her back.  His kisses became more urgent and hungry.  He needed her lips; he tilted her chin up and to the side so he could reach her mouth.  She made a soft sound in her throat when he kissed her.  The noise sent his head spinning.

            Oliver stood up, drawing Felicity with him and turning her around so he could press her fully against him.  Her hands went under his shirt, spreading her fingers to touch as much of him as possible.  She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and leaned into his touch when he pushed off her robe and impatiently jerked the strap of her nightgown down one shoulder to give him access to her breast.  He ran his tongue around her rosy nipple, making her pant his name.  He went back to her mouth, pushing his tongue inside to taste her. 

            “Bedroom?” she asked, breaking their kiss.

            “Can’t wait,” he replied, gripping her hips and bringing her to the floor with him.  They were on their knees, facing each other and he reached under her nightgown to tug her panties down her legs.  She stopped the kiss to remove them. 

            “The curtains are open,” Felicity said, starting to get up. Oliver pulled her behind the couch and pushed her onto her back.  He bared her to the waist and tugged off his shirt, wanting her touch on his heated skin.  He buried his face between her legs and had her gasping.  The scent of her arousal was driving him crazy.  He sat up and his hands went to his belt.  He unfastened it and his jeans, coming down on top of her and fastening his lips to the side of her neck, thrusting inside her.  Finally joined with her he felt the ache inside him ease.  He began to thrust, hard and fast, setting his teeth against the side of her neck.

            “So warm,” he moaned into her ear.  “So wet and tight.”  She reacted to his words and arched up, urging him faster.  Then, suddenly, she stopped and gripped his shoulder. 

            “Wait, Oliver, did you remember, ah! Did you remember protection?”

            “What?” he asked, not slowing down.  His blood pounded in his ears and she was climaxing around him.  He couldn’t help coming with her and squeezed her tightly against him. 

            When Oliver’s blood slowed down, he looked at them, a tangle of legs on the living room floor.

            “I think we got carried away and forgot something,” Felicity said, out of breath.

            “Oh, God, you’re right.”  He rolled off her, realizing his oversight.  “I’m sorry,” he fastened his pants and reached down, helping her up.  “I don’t know what came over me, I haven’t been so careless in a long time.”

            “I’ll jump in the shower,” she said, walking, stiff-legged to the bathroom.  Oliver shook his head, clearing it.  He’d been unusually focused on being inside her and aware of nothing else.  He finished his beer and cleaned up the wrappers from dinner.  He spotted her panties on the floor beside the couch where they’d landed.  He smiled to himself and picked them up. 

            Felicity showered and washed herself carefully.  She did some math in her head and decided she was in little danger of pregnancy.  By her calculations, she was past ovulation and would be getting her period in the next day or two.  She hadn’t ever been carried away the way she was tonight.  Oliver’s passion had been contagious.  He was waiting when she got out of the shower, she was wrapped in a fluffy towel.

            “Are you patrolling tonight?” she asked, glancing at the clock which indicated it was just before ten.

            “Yeah, just the usual spots with Roy.”

            “I’ll hit they hay early, I’ve got an 8AM meeting in the morning, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            Oliver drove away, acutely aware of the pull he felt towards Felicity, he’d been tempted to take the night off and stay with her. 

~

The evening brought a small but valuable piece of information from a willing informant.  Oliver occasionally enjoyed a night off from intimidation.  Roy still had contacts and occasionally went out, without a mask, and traded information, money or favors for what they needed.  Between what he learned from a woman who advertised her unique services on a discreet website, and the small leads Felicity got from the police computer, they were getting closer to their quarry.  He current target was rarely in the city; he worked out of The UAE and was very difficult to find.  They didn’t have a name for him yet, or even confirmation that their criminal was male, but the few visits to Starling that coincided with money moved from stolen boats coincided with six different men.  Narrowing down the list took time and patience.

Oliver found himself driving past Felicity’s apartment at around two in the morning.  Her lights were off, of course, and he drove away.  The urge to sneak in the window and climb into her bed had been strong.  The thought of drifting off while holding her warm, soft body was tempting, and the thought of waking her in pleasant ways was even more tempting.  Oliver returned to his own, empty bed and lay awake for another hour until he finally slept.  His dreams were filled with golden hair, silky skin, and luscious kisses.  He woke late, feeling like he’d barely slept.  His back ached, his head felt fuzzy and he sported a morning erection and sheen of sweat that required a cold shower to ease. 


	3. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlyn continues to get closer to Felicity than she'd like. The men in her life also start to act strangely. ***This chapter contains depictions of non-consensual sexual contact and violence.***

With Diggle out of town and Roy managing the monthly inventory and the weekly alcohol delivery for the club, Felicity had the Arrow cave to herself.  She checked her sources and called Quentin Lance, asking a few questions and reassuring him that as soon as her information presented evidence of a crime taking place in the city, she would call him.

A pair of warm hands landed on her shoulders and began to rub, gently.  She closed her eyes and hummed to herself, enjoying the familiar touch.  Thumbs found the spots of tension in her neck and pressed deep, uncomfortable at first, and then easing the ache.

“You’re really good at this,” she murmured.  “Where did you learn it?” she pressed her shoulders back into the soothing motions.

“Nanda Parbat.”

Felicity pushed back from her desk and stumbled in her haste to move away from Malcolm Merlyn.  She knew Oliver’s touch and was certain it had been him.  The assassin smiled at her, and pushed the now-empty chair back to the desk.   “You looked tense; I was only trying to help.”

“Stop approaching me, Mr. Merlyn.”  She didn’t bother explaining she’d thought he was Oliver.  He’d known what he was doing and wasn’t in the mood to be honest.  She also didn’t bother to remind him of her feelings for him, he knew that too.

“I want only good things for you, Miss Smoak.”

“I want only your absence.”

Merlyn inclined his head and turned, walking away.  Felicity felt a little light-headed and irritable.  She paced, restlessly for several minutes before returning to her chair.  She found herself perspiring despite the chill of the basement and found some tissues, blotting her face and neck.  When Oliver did arrive, dressed in jeans instead of his riding leathers, she embraced him with relief.

“What’s wrong?”

“Merlyn was here, he snuck up on me and I thought he was you.” She told him about the unwelcome massage.  Oliver drew his eyebrows together. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“He’s trying to mess with your head by messing with mine.”

“He said he kissed you while I was away.”

“Yes, several people did, Roy, Lance and even Nyssa; mostly comforting me when we thought you were dead,” she said.  “On the forehead or cheek, but Merlyn showed up in a restaurant to talk to me and when I left he acted creepy, said weird things and then kissed me, on the mouth and I left.”

“Seriously?”

“Oliver I’m not lying, he said it himself.”

“I believe you.”

“I just assumed he was trying to intimidate me then, I don’t know what he thought he would accomplish today.”

“I’ll talk to him.”  Oliver looked angry.  Felicity shook her head at him. 

“He probably wants to distract you.”  Her words made sense.  Merlyn’s earlier warning about having attachments to people made him sure that’s what he was doing.  He didn’t like the idea of the older man touching Felicity.  He pulled her into his arms and held her, rubbing her arms, gently. 

“Nyssa kissed you?” he asked, mildly.  “I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

Felicity pushed him away and swatted his arm, but his joke broke her sour mood and she smiled.  Pulling her work back up on the computer she gave him updates on their current quarry. 

Oliver kept his hand on the back of her neck, stroking her soft skin while she talked.  He walked away to remove his jacket and set it down.  Felicity went to the medical chest and took out a few aspirin, swallowing them with the last of her coffee.  Her head ached and she felt a slight chill, suddenly.

“Cold?” Oliver asked when she rubbed her arms.

            “Yeah, I was feeling warm earlier, but now I think I need a sweater.”  She started towards her chair again, intending to put on another layer of clothing.  Oliver sat in her chair and tugged her down onto his lap, turning them both to face the screen.  He radiated heat and she relaxed against him.  He placed his palms gently against her thighs while she ran a list of boats owned by their suspects against marinas in the ports from which the victims had been moored.  It would take a while so she let the computer do the work and leaned back against Oliver’s chest. 

            From her position on his lap, Felicity felt Oliver’s erection through his jeans.  She shifted her seat, causing him to groan.  He slid his fingers up the inside of her thigh and under the bottom of her dress.  He stroked her, boldly through her panties and moved his other hand up and over the front of her dress to cup her breast.  She shifted on his lap again and he tugged her dress up to her waist.

            “Roy’s not going to come down here while the club is filled with people,” Oliver said when Felicity started to protest, weakly.  “Digg’s not going to be back for a few hours.” He shifted her forward and unfastened his belt and his jeans.  His heart pounded in his chest with excitement when her fingers gripped his thighs.  He took a condom out of his pocket; he’d been keeping a supply handy since his carelessness in her apartment.  He pushed her panties down her hips with one hand and tore open the packet with his teeth, rolling the latex onto his erection. 

            Felicity kicked her panties away and felt Oliver pull her towards him, leaning her back against his chest.  She lifted herself and let him find the right spot before sinking down on him, impaling herself.  Slowly they rocked together, moving gently, adjusting to the position and being careful of the arms of the chair.  Oliver parted her legs and rubbed gently, stimulating her.  She rose and fell, awkward at first before he moved to match her rhythm.  His mouth was on the back of her neck, kissing her shoulders, and grazing her with his teeth.

            “I can’t- I’m not-” she began, shifting impatiently.  Oliver stood in one fluid movement and she grabbed the table for support.  He leaned over her back and began to thrust harder, making her sigh with relief as the much-desired friction began. 

            A slight buzzing and light-headed feeling came over Oliver and he picked up his pace, gripping Felicity’s waist, firmly and pulling her back onto him. She made a low moan and started contracting around him right away.  His surprise at her quick reaction had him climaxing too.  He came with a groan and panted, trying to catch his breath.  His heart was still racing and he placed a hand on his chest, taking a few deep breaths to try and slow it down. 

            Felicity’s legs wobbled slightly as she made her way into her office.  She’d needed to stop at her apartment to shower, quickly and change.  She’d worked up a sweat with Oliver and smelled of sex.  Her knees still felt a little rubbery but she sat at her desk and uploaded the security software they were trying out.  She had set up a dummy computer connected to several other hard drives to use as security testers.  She would install the programs and then try to hack them.  So far this one was the best but it eventually cracked. 

Training with Merlyn helped Oliver focus his anger, he felt more effective and certain while he channeled his energy into something physical.  The assassin moved efficiently and without any wasted movements, and he shifted his weight to his advantage.  He wasn’t as lean as his opponent but used the additional bulk to land harder blows.  He also had an uncanny spatial awareness; learning his style at a slower, repeated pace showed the younger man where he needed improvement.  He understood how Thea had become a competent combatant in just a matter of months.  Merlyn was a very good teacher. 

“Your focus is better today.” The observation came with repeated blows from the practice sword. 

“Putting time into learning a skill usually does that.”

“Did you sleep with her?” 

Oliver was ready and expecting Merlyn to try to break his concentration. 

“Sleep? No.”

“I can hardly blame you,” his opponent said.  “She flies under the radar, that one.”

“Slade Wilson found her appealing once he got close to her,” Oliver’s lips peeled back in a fierce grin.  “Then she stabbed him in the neck.”

“A truly rare flower,” Merlyn smiled too.  “Lips as soft as rose petals.”  He stood upright and closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through his nose.  “I’m an old-fashioned guy, myself,” he continued.  “Pretty faces can be bought, but she has class, intelligence, and loyalty and she smells amazing.  You’re a lucky man.”

“Why are you so focused on Felicity?”

“Because you are.”

“Is that why you kissed her?”  Oliver narrowed his eyes at the older man.  “If you did it when she thought I was dead, I’m surprised you still have lips.”

“Ms. Smoak made her feelings for me quite clear before that meeting.  She was the one who brought up the subject of kisses, and I offered my condolences to a woman who clearly loved you.”

“I can see your motivation for doing it to stir things up between Felicity and me now; but I’m trying to figure out why you would do it if you thought I was dead.”

Merlyn smiled slightly but said nothing. 

Oliver felt a chill run through his stomach as it occurred to him that the assassin might be interested in Felicity.  _His_ Felicity.  He resumed their exercises, but his mind continued to creep back to her and he started to question the man’s motivations. 

“You’ve lost focus.”  Oliver was on his back with the tip of a wooden sword pointed at his heart.  “It took very little to make that happen.” 

“Why did you kiss her?”

“I don’t have to say another word to distract you.  All I had to do was plant a seed in the back of your mind.”  He removed the sword and walked away, hanging it up with the other weapons.  “You don’t need to stop loving her, Oliver.  You need to accept that you can’t control everything.  She might die by hundreds of means that have nothing to do with you and you can’t predict or prevent any of them.  Letting go of your attachments doesn’t mean you don’t love her or stop trying to protect her.  It means you accept that life will end for everyone and that other lives will go on.  You fighting a duel won’t change what’s going to happen.”

“I know that.”

“You might know it, but you don’t believe it yet.”  He jerked his chin towards the door.  “We’re done for the day.  Think about letting go of the things you can’t control.”

Oliver nodded and refrained from asking about the kiss again. 

Felicity was changing into a cocktail dress when Ray palmer entered her office.

“Felicity?”

“I’ll be out in a sec.”  She had a small, folding screen that protected her privacy, temporarily.  She didn’t like changing in the bathroom with such a nice dress.  She smoothed the midnight blue, silk over her hips.  The cut was very simple, the fabric and color did the work of looking expensive.  She slipped on pearl earrings and a matching necklace.  They were a soft, pale gold and complimented her coloring.  She slipped on strappy gold heels and stepped out into view.

Ray whistled appreciatively.  She picked up a small clutch from her desk and put in her wallet and a spare lipstick.  She wouldn’t need her computer to meet a potential engineer they wanted to hire.  Felicity liked the idea of wooing the best talent from other offices, but she believed in being direct about it.  She’d made the call to Jess Hews, the young, talented head of an eco-engineering team that had recently made some waves in the Midwest with wind power. 

Felicity had asked her to have drinks and dinner with herself and Ray; she’d been blunt that they wanted to ply her with alcohol while they shamelessly competed for her skill against her current project choices.  Jess had readily agreed to the wooing and had wisely suggested an expensive restaurant in Starling’s nicest hotel.  Ray hadn’t minded since he was a silent partner in the hotel. 

“Like?” she asked, moving her arms away from her sides and drawing her hair to the side and fastening it on the side of her neck with a clip.

“You look stunning.”  He offered her his arm and she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow.  As they descended together in the elevator, Ray turned to glance at her, in a distracted way. “Are you wearing a new perfume?”

“Bought it a few weeks ago,” she replied, handing him her coat.  He held it for her while she put her arms in the sleeves.  His hands rested on her nape for a moment and she felt his breath on her ear when he leaned down.

“I like it.”  His voice was soft, like a caress and Felicity blushed.  They left the elevator and walked through the lobby.  He nodded to his driver who opened the back door to the Audi sedan they’d ride in this evening. 

“Any plan for the wooing of Jess?” Felicity asked.

“Order champagne, get her drunk, take blackmail photos of her doing a keg stand?” Ray watched her with an unreadable expression. 

“Good plan,” she said, then she nudged his knee when it brushed her thigh and crossed one leg over the other, giving the big man some space. She checked her phone for messages and sent one to Diggle, informing him she’d be in a dinner meeting until late and to please contact her only in an emergency.  She glanced at her companion; Ray’s eyes were fixed on her legs.  She found herself blushing a little under his gaze.  She found him appealing but even if she hadn’t been involved with Oliver, she knew getting involved with the President of Palmer Tech was a bad idea.  “Ray?” she prodded, nodding out the window as the car slid to a stop. 

“Right.”  He blinked and smiled, quickly.  They entered the restaurant and were shown to their table.  “So, am I good cop or bad cop?”

“You’re rich cop, I’m sexy cop.”

“You think she swings that way?” Ray looked at her, surprised. 

“Maybe, but I’m sure that Mike Robbins, her chief civil engineer is male and very straight.”  She waved her phone at him.  “You said it was pretty likely she’d want to bring some of her team, Mike is her right-hand man.”

“Does sexy cop have handcuffs?” he murmured, sliding her chair in. 

“She has a stun gun,” Felicity replied with a smile.  “Behave yourself, Ray.”

They greeted their guests who arrived at the restaurant; Felicity had been correct, Jess had brought Mike, the civil engineer.  They ordered drinks and chatted about personal matters, getting acquainted and relaxed with each other.  Jess was warm and friendly but shrewd and when they got down to business, she had a lot of questions; the most pertinent was how much Palmer Tech could challenge her.  Mike added little to the conversation at first, a few clarifying remarks, but Ray noticed him edging his seat towards Felicity’s and felt a chilly frost enter his chest.  The engineer seemed to be aiming most of his questions at the pretty blonde.  He also angled his body in her direction and eventually rested his hand on the back of her chair. 

Ray ended the evening abruptly but garnered a promise for a personal tour of the building and a detailed explanation of the projects he lined up.  Felicity was surprised when her boss paid the check and took her elbow, steering her from the restaurant.  He ducked into the cocktail bar on the other side of the lobby and pulled her into a dark corner.

“Ray, what’s wrong?” Felicity looked concerned.

“Your ‘Sexy Cop’ routine was getting a bit too effective.”

“Mike was getting friendly, but he wasn’t making any inappropriate remarks,” she replied.  “What’s really going on here?

~

Oliver spoke with Diggle who told him about Felicity’s plans for the evening.  He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it but reminded himself that he hadn’t asked.  He sent Roy out again and stayed close since the younger vigilante didn’t bring his bow or mask.  The criminals they were currently tracking were modern pirates.  Their targets were carefully chosen and watched before a score.  Sometimes they held hostages for ransom and other times they’d force the owners to electronically empty their bank accounts.  Starling City seemed to have a connection to the crimes.  The crews were frequently hired from the sailors who hung around the docks. 

Arrow and team were following their lead suspects electronically on one end and tracking down some of the crew members locally.  Argus would handle the heavy lifting, an unusual arrangement but one that suited both parties.  Tonight they weren’t very lucky; several of their leads vanished, either eliminated as witnesses or hired for another job.  They’d have to apply pressure to the suspects and get better information on them.  Oliver changed and sent Felicity a text.  When he received no reply, he swung by the hotel.  He watched her being ushered though the lobby by Ray Palmer and enter a dark, intimate bar. 

~

“I don’t know,” Ray said, rubbing his forehead.  “I honestly don’t know.”  He stepped away from Felicity and paced away a few steps and back. His suit looked for too constraining for the restless posture he held.  Uncharacteristically, he rubbed a hand through his hair, nervously.  She noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, when he was always so cool under pressure.

“Is something bothering you?” Felicity reached out and touched his arm, briefly, he shook it off and she sighed, walking to the bar and ordering a glass of wine.  She slapped down some cash and took her glass back to where her normally reserved friend stood.  “This is just adding to the surreal events going on in my life.” She took a swallow of the red wine, and set the glass down, brushing a tiny drop from the corner of her mouth. 

Ray picked up her hand and stared at her thumb where the tiny drop of liquid looked black in the low light.  Felicity pulled her hand away, quickly.  Her face felt flushed and she wanted to get some air.

“I think I need to leave.”  She took her purse and walked out of the bar.  When she reached the curb, she felt a warm hand on her elbow.  She turned and opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Ray’s lips.  His hand cupped her face and held her while his mouth moved over hers.  He stopped and stepped back, shaking his head, slightly.  She stared at him, rooted to the spot.

“Take the car straight home, Felicity,” he said, backing away from her.  He fisted his hands at his sides.  “Turn in early and if I show up at your door, don’t open it.”

“I-I don’t-”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”  He turned and walked away, stiffly.

Felicity sat in the back of the car and gave the driver her address.  She mulled over the events of the evening in her head. 

“When it rains, it pours,” she said to herself.  She’d been virtually dateless for the last few years and suddenly men were coming out of the woodwork.  Frankly the women were too, if she was being honest.  Something wasn’t right about Ray.  He hadn’t had a lot to drink and she’d seen him hold his liquor in the past. 

Felicity tipped the driver and walked quickly to her apartment.  She turned Ray’s warning over in her head while she unlocked the door.  Before she could push it closed behind her, a heavy body came through.

“Felicity.”

“Oliver.”  She was surprised to see him.  “What are you doing here?”

“Expecting someone else?” he said, coldly.  He reached for her, closing his hands on her upper arms and pulling her to him, kissing her, fiercely. 

~

 

Oliver’s body was tense, and his muscles were as taught as a bowstring, holding potential energy by a fingertip.  She pushed him away and knocked his hands from her arms.

“This night has been stranger than most, Oliver, so please don’t make it any more complicated.”  She was irritable and more than a little on edge.  She hung up her jacket, removed her shoes, and walked back to the bedroom, tugging at the clip in her hair.  She knew he’d followed her and heard the bedroom door close. 

“You think I’m complicated?”  He had a guarded look on his face and spoke quietly.

“Oliver Queen, complicated? No way,” she replied, removing her jewelry and running a brush through her blonde hair. 

“Do you think I’m complicating your life?”

“Oliver I’ve rarely regretted my decision to accept your request for my help because of the good things we accomplish.”  She unzipped the back of her dress and picked up her pajamas from the end of her bed; then she faced him and put her hands on her hips.  “In spite of our differences of opinion from time to time, I think we make a good team.  I cannot, however, accept your continued alliance with a man who murdered my friend, turned your sister into a killer and then a target in order to get you to fight his battles for him.”  She shook her head.  “I just can’t accept that, no matter how much you say you need him.  So yes, you complicate my life exponentially, Oliver.”

“Ray Palmer doesn’t.” His face was flushed, now.

“What?” Felicity looked genuinely confused.  “Are you jealous of my boss?”

“You mean the boss who took my company, takes your time and with whom I see you making out on the street?”  He stepped forward, face flushed, “That boss?”

“Were you following me?”

“Don’t turn this around, Felicity.  I know what I saw.”  He was inches away from her now, looking down at her upturned face.  He breathed in her scent; it was more than perfume, it was something primitive and earthy and tickled his senses when he was close to her.  He stared at her mouth, overwhelmed by the ache in his belly.  He burned for her now, and it was getting worse each day.  Each time he took her, he wanted her more.  He placed his hands on the sides of her face and kissed her before stepping back.  “That’s what I saw.” His hands moved down to her shoulders.

“Did you come straight to my apartment?” Felicity had a look of concern on her face.  “Did you go after Ray?”

“Worried about him?” Oliver rubbed a hand over his face, damp with perspiration.  He fisted his hands at his sides.  “Are you sleeping with him?”

“Oliver, what’s wrong with you?”  She stared at him in disbelief. 

“You let him kiss you in public, what do you let him do at the office?”  He moved forward and trailed a finger down her shoulder, edging her dress down her arm.  She brushed his hand away and tried to push past him.  He put out an arm to stop her and she paused, fighting for patience.  Oliver was visibly sweating, reminding Felicity of Ray, just before he’d kissed her.

“I’m not having this discussion with you right now,” she said, shaking off the tingling thought at the back of her head.

“Do you let him touch you?” he brushed his hand up her bare back.  “Do you let him see you?” he drew the dress down her arms.  She clenched her jaw and folded her arms across her breasts, keeping the dress from dropping lower. 

“We’re not going to do this, Oliver.”  Felicity used her quiet, serious voice.  Something had gone haywire with the men in her life.  Her lover was acting like a caveman, but even at his angriest, he was never a bully.  “You’re being an ass,” she said, heading for the door.  To her surprise he grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her back to him.  She stumbled and caught her balance.  She stared at him in shock; he didn’t manhandle her like this.   She got angry and shoved at his chest.  “Stop it!” Her push was ineffective and he pulled her in for another kiss.  She turned her face away and his lips landed on her neck.  They struggled awkwardly, tangling legs and arms.

“Do you let him kiss you?” he hissed. She slapped him as hard as she could.  He grabbed her arms and pushed her against the wall _._   His breathing was rapid, and his eyes looked unfocused.  He pressed his hips against hers and pushed his knee between her legs.  He ran a hand up her thigh and under the bottom of her dress. “Do you let him come inside you?” he whispered.  He kissed her again, landing directly on her lips. She bit him this time, and he released her leg, touching his lip with his fingers.  He was still too close; she could feel the dampness of his shirt and the hard ridge of his erection through his pants. 

“Let me go, Oliver.”  She trembled with fear.  This man was a stranger; an animal.  He wasn’t her Oliver.  She kept her voice calm and just above a whisper.  “You need to let me go, now.”  He looked hurt and confused; sweat poured down his face and soaked his t-shirt.  Blood and saliva dripped onto her collarbone, pooling in the small indent before sliding down the front of her chest. 

Oliver saw blood on Felicity’s pale skin.  His head pounded and his blood pumped through his veins, too hot, too fast.  His hands were on her and she was saying something.  He fought away the images of Ray Palmer and looked at Felicity.  H _is_ Felicity.  Her eyes were wide, her lipstick was smudged, and the front of her pretty dress was askew.  His hands.  His hands were gripping her arms.  He was holding on too tight.

“Felicity,” he let her go and stepped back.  She closed her eyes as blood spattered from his lip onto her face.  She pulled her dress back up with shaking hands.  “I’m sorry-” he began.

“We’re pretty far past sorry.”  She didn’t look at him and he saw a tear slip out of the corner of her eye.  There were red marks on her arms where his hands had been.  “Just go, Oliver.”

“I would never hurt you, Felicity.”

“Please,” she said again, and her face crumpled as she turned away from him.  “Please, go.”

Wiping the blood from his mouth and staring at his hand, Oliver backed away from her.  He fought against his instincts.  With every heartbeat he denied the commands of his body.  Take. Hold. Keep.  One step at a time, he backed away from her.  Eventually he stumbled from her room and out of her apartment.  He ran to his bike and rode off, heading for the foundry. 

            Felicity closed her eyes and breathed.  She took air into her lungs and let it out; tears fell but she focused on her breathing for a full minute.  The sticky blood on her chest pushed against denial that threatened to soothe and protect her by pretending it hadn’t happened.  She’d allowed denial to take over her mind when Oliver had disappeared but not again.  She needed to push herself into function.  Standing on shaky legs she went to her front door and engaged the chain.  Locking her doors was like whistling in the dark when the man you feared was Oliver Queen and she was very afraid of him.

            The cool air on bare skin reminded Felicity her dress was still unzipped.  She wasn’t sure, at first, whether to zip it up or take it off.  She stood, frozen with indecision until her brain snapped back on.  The tingling suspicion at the back of her mind returned to itch and irritate her.  She picked up her phone and gathered her thoughts before typing out a text message.  After she’d sent it she sat at her computer and tried to work.  Eventually her phone buzzed and she looked at the message.

            _Knock Knock_

            Felicity opened her window and felt the familiar breeze that announced her friend’s arrival.  Barry Allen had never been such a welcome sight.  He was casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, and carried a backpack with him. 

            “Hi.”  His expression was one of concern and worry.  He looked her over and took in her bare feet, smudged and tear-stained makeup, but his eyed stayed at her neck and chest where blood had dried. 

            “I didn’t touch anything,” she said, rubbing her arm.  “I just zipped my dress.”

            “Okay,” he said, gently.  “Let’s start with the basics.”  He had his kit opened on her floor and stood in front of her with some swabs and collection tubes.  He collected some blood from her chest and swabbed the side of her neck for saliva and inside her mouth for an elimination sample.  She let him look over her carefully until he found a single hair that looked like Oliver’s.  He refrained from touching her when he asked his next question.  “Are there any other samples you need me to take?”  She shook her head and he paused, “Felicity do you need to go to the hospital?”

            “No, I’m fine.”  Barry put away the various samples in his kit and packed it away. “Your shoes didn’t catch fire this time,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. 

            “I came most of the way in my suit, I changed when I sent the text.”  He sat on the edge of her bed.  “Felicity can you tell me what happened?”

            “I wish I had a real answer.”  She went to the bathroom to change into her pajamas and clean off Oliver’s blood.  Barry joined her in the living room and sat on the couch while she curled up in a chair.  She told him about her relationship going in a physical direction with Oliver.  She went on to mention the strange behavior exhibited by Ray, Merlyn, and Oliver’s eventual breakdown.  “He wasn’t himself.”  She rubbed her arms.  “I thought about calling you because both he and Ray seemed to get light-headed and shaky, and they both started sweating a lot before acting jealous and coming on to me.”

            “They were sweating?”

            “I’ve never seen Ray sweat except when exercising, but he was flushed and his face was sweaty.  Oliver’s t-shirt was soaked and his face was really red too.”

            “And they both came on to you?”

            “I think Malcolm Merlyn did as well.”  She shuddered and told Barry about Merlyn’s kiss and their other two encounters including the shoulder massage.  Barry went back to her bedroom and came back with another kit. 

“Can I take some of your blood?” he asked.  “If three men who don’t all hang out together exhibit strange symptoms around you, then we should accept the possibility that _you_ might be the one who’s been drugged.”

“I’ve felt okay,” she said but agreed to let him take blood and a pillow case from her bed.  He applied a tourniquet to her arm and had her squeeze her hand into a fist.  He touched her shoulder gently and she breathed out the breath she’d been holding. 

“Okay, just relax.”  Barry drew a few vials of blood and packed up the kit again. 

“Are you going to run it at the police station?”

“I’ll ask Caitlin to help me at STAR Labs.”  He placed a hand on her lower back and paused.  He leaned forward and inhaled, slowly.  “Um, did you change your perfume?” he asked. 

“You’re not the only one to ask me that,” she said, looking at his face.  “Are you feeling okay, Barry?”  She pressed her hand against his forehead.  He tended to be a bit warm, but he seemed to be sweating too. 

“I really, really like the way you smell.”  He stared at her curiously. 

“You do?”

“A little more than I should, at the moment.”  He was across the room in a blink.  “I think you should come back to the lab with me so…someone else can run tests.”  He paused and rubbed a hand over his face.  “Someone female.”

“What are you feeling right now?”  Felicity was on her feet.  “Do you feel angry?”

“At Oliver, yes.  But I don’t feel aggressive towards you.”  He pressed his lips together for a moment.  “Have strangers been harassing you?”

“No, a guy I met recently started to get friendly over the course of a few hours, but he didn’t try anything.”

“I wonder if Oliver and your boss already had feelings for you and something is making that reaction a little more…intense.”

“What about you?” 

“We’ve already established the fact that I find you very appealing,” he said, frankly.  “I’m not tempted to go caveman on you but I was distracted for a second or two.”  Felicity stood up, nervously. 

“I’ll wait until your tests have been run before I go anywhere,” she said with a brittle smile.  “Besides, three out of the four people I hang out with over there are men.”  Her lips trembled and she held back tears.  Barry’s arms went around her and he held her. 

“I’m so sorry, Felicity.”  He rubbed her back, gently.  “Do you need me to take you someplace safe?”

“No, I’ll stay in tomorrow in case I’m the source of the problem.”

“Please don’t consider yourself at fault for this until we have some kind of results.”  She agreed and Barry left after getting her to promise to call him if people reacted strangely to her. 


	4. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver remembers the time between his fall and waking up. Felicity enlists the team at Star Labs to help her figure out what's happening.

Oliver ran through the dark streets of Starling City.  His sneakers pounded the pavement and he focused on the sidewalk ahead of him.  He’d set a punishing pace for himself, wanting to replace the pain in his mind with physical exhaustion.  He rarely went running on the streets but needed cold air against his face and an open space.  Regret and anger threatened to overwhelm him so he ran on.  The aching despair in his chest warred with guilt.  He’d crossed a line with Felicity and he didn’t know how it had happened.  He hated himself because his first thoughts were selfish; how could he make it up to her so she’d forgive him?  He should have been concerned about her.

            The events of the last few weeks played back in Oliver’s head.  His emotions had been off since he’d returned from the duel.  Maseo had told him he’d been brought back from death; he wasn’t sure he believed it but his memories felt foreign.  The pain and cold after the fall had given way to a drifting darkness.  He’d seen and felt nothing, merely existing with a displaced feeling of being nowhere.  He likened it only to being on an unfamiliar road between two places he knew.  He had felt them, the two places, very different places that both called to him.  One was quiet and soft.  It wasn’t warm there, but he’d felt the absence of cold; the absence of pain.  He’d felt for the place, wanting to wrap himself in it, and to chase away the gnawing thoughts of incompletion. 

            The other place had burned.  Oliver had felt whispers of fear, pain and loneliness.  It had reached for him and waited for him.  All he’d wanted to do was turn his back and rest.  Thoughts of a pretty, brown-haired girl had tickled his mind.  She needed him.  Without him, she’d be alone.  Other faces swam in the darkness, and then a lovely blonde had spoken to him.  Hers had been the only voice he’d heard.  She was the very state of happiness and she was bliss.  She was…Felicity.  He’d remembered little of his old existence.  It had seemed so far in the past, hadn’t he floated here for decades? Centuries? A Millenia?  He had floated until discomfort had begun to poke at him.  He’d turned towards the black, softness, no pain.  Her voice.  He’d heard her voice.

            “I don’t want to talk.”  It was okay, he hadn’t wanted to talk either.  He wanted to stand with his eyes closed and bask in the warmth that emanated from her golden self.  Warm, golden light.  She was the light and with the light came pain.  Burning, freezing, agony; insides that felt mushy and wrong.  But the light had still whispered with her voice and the soft touch of her lips.  He had imagined that he could kiss her smile.  Kissing a smile would be different and warmer.  Perhaps she could warm him.  His eyes had opened inside the cabin, and the next week passed with little help from him.  He’d mostly slept, or been in a coma, and he remembered little besides the taste of mold. 

            It had been easier for Oliver to remember the voice and face of the pretty blonde once he’d returned.  His timeline was jumbled; when he dozed, the voices of Maseo and Tatsu had made him think he was in Hong Kong and they were separated by only a thin wall.  He’d always pretended he hadn’t heard their lovemaking.  His life on the island, and Shado’s gentle touch seemed like an eternity away.  Listening to Tatsu’s quiet sighs made him envious.  He hadn’t coveted his friend’s wife, but the tenderness that she held only for him.  A wall existed between the entire world and Tatsu.  Only her husband and child were allowed inside.  The purity of their connection had made Oliver’s connections to people, Laurel, Sara, and Shado, seem as insubstantial as smoke. 

            Intelligent but unfocused blue eyes appeared in front of Oliver and he remembered a red pen held in pretty lips.  She was thinking of twenty other things when he’d interrupted her.  Pulling herself back into his orbit had caused her to babble.  He’d understood.  Sometimes he had trouble connecting with the minds around him.  Other minds didn’t know what he knew.  They hadn’t seen what he had seen and he couldn’t always think of the right things to say, in those situations, he usually gave a tight-lipped smile and said as little as possible.  She was different.  She dressed for an office in boring, business clothes but defiantly kept her bright lipstick and industrial piercing.  The piercing had caught his attention after her lips.  She could willingly handle pain and, in its own way, it was a form of self mutilation.  He had understood that concept all too well.  Bringing herself down to earth from the world in which she lived took effort.  He guessed most people couldn’t keep up with the speed of her thoughts.  She spoke as quickly as she thought, and her second thoughts tended to come too late.  He’d found himself smiling.  She was damaged and no one else knew about it.

            Love came softly.  It had fallen around Oliver like snow.  While he’d loved Laurel, while he’d longed for the pretty lawyer and the life he’d had, love was falling, melting on him as it landed; unnoticed and brushed off as water.  While Sara had returned to his bed, and the pain inside of him had an outlet, he’d ignored the buildup on his shoulders.  The weight of her love, freely given at every moment.  Never hidden from him or Diggle.  She’d loved them fiercely, protectively.  She’d felt alone until Walter Steele had trusted her.  Walter had seen what no one else had bothered to notice.  Her brilliant mind analyzed data quickly and with the instinct of a hunter.  Oliver had known it would only be a matter of time before she’d figured out his secret.  He’d kept her in the dark solely because he knew she would be afraid. 

            The memory of the only time Oliver had touched Felicity’s lips with his own had made his body tingle and given rise to a reaction for which he hadn’t thought he’d had the blood supply.  If Maseo or Tatsu had noticed, they hadn’t mentioned it.  The sharp memory of the tremor running through her and the sorrow in her eyes had thrown him a cruel dream.  A dream in which there was no Thea, there had been only Felicity asking him not to go.  Her feelings had been plain on her face and they’d kissed.  The love that had fallen so softly had drifted around him until he could barely move without feeling it.  Now they could be together.  He must have twitched in his sleep because he had felt an agonizing pull of his internal tears and holes.

            Returning to the city had been both cathartic and devastating.  In his absence the city had risen to its feet.  When he’d made his entrance and spoken, they’d listened.  The look of hope and love on Felicity’s face had been worse to behold when it left, crushed by disappointment and betrayal.  She had asked him to kill in order to return to her.  There was no compromise left in her.  She hadn’t even asked him to kill to spare her _own_ life.  It was love in its purest form and he’d willingly lost it.  She had barely thought twice before baring her soul to him about her hopes for their future.  A heartbeat later she’d told him why she didn’t want his feelings.  She was logical, she was smart, and she knew that he would get her killed.  As she’d walked away from him he’d been unable to find the words to tell her how he’d felt.  He’d been an imposter in Oliver’s body.  He’d felt like a passenger, a puppet master pulling his own tendons in a macabre theater.  How could he tell her that not all of him had returned from death. 

            The weeks that had followed brought misery in its most aggravating form: helplessness.  Oliver had needed Felicity too much to send her away.  She tipped the playing field in his favor with as much efficiency as ever but while, at best, tiredly dismissing him, at worst, outwardly resenting him.  If life had been more fair, she’d have turned into a raging bitch and made it easier on him to quell the urge to beg for her love again.  The moment she’d held him in her arms, the one moment of happiness he’d experienced since dying, he’d felt whole.  Fate had cruelly tied her into his resurrection so now she was tied into his life.  Wedged like a cork to stem the humanity that leaked out of him and required constant infusions.  Her offer to share her bed had come at a time when he’d been most unstable.  He felt wholly human when he basked in the warmth her touch gave him.  Each encounter made him hungry for the next.  He’d started to lose his restraint, the result of which had, very luckily, been accepted by her. 

            When Oliver had faced Felicity in her apartment, he’d wanted to express his anger and pain.  Being in the same room with her, however, had prevented it again.  Heat had risen in his face, his breath had come in gasps and he’d felt a tightness in his chest that felt like his lungs being squeezed.  The right words wouldn’t come out and after only a few minutes around her, the right words didn’t even make it into his conscious mind.  The only words he could speak, and the only thoughts present were about her and Palmer.  Had the man who still had billions touched her?  Had he kissed her?  Had Felicity been with him while Oliver had been dead?  Had she been with him since he’d returned.  Nothing else mattered to him besides getting those answers. 

            Oliver had felt less and less human with every moment he’d stood in her bedroom.  Getting closer hadn’t helped, kissing her hadn’t helped because he imagined tasting another man’s scotch on her lips.  The jumble of words and demands had made little sense.  He’d wanted to get himself back so badly that he hadn’t been able to let go.  And then, suddenly, there was pain.  Blood came from his mouth like it had in his dream.  She was crying and he had laid hands on her.  Her smell made him dizzy but he stumbled back, unable to see or hear.  He’d apologized automatically, wanting to comfort her because she was afraid and upset.  His brain wouldn’t wrap around the fact that it was he whom she feared.  No, Felicity should never fear him.  He would protect her at all costs.  Surely she knew that.  No, she’d begged him to leave.  She’d been frightened and crying.

            Oliver had to look around to recognize his surroundings.  He’d run for several miles and was nearing the Glades.  He hoped, with a savage heart, that someone would attack him.  He wanted to feel someone’s fist against his face.  No one came out of the shadows to challenge him.  He laughed out loud at the irony.  He wanted to punish himself, but he’d already made the streets safer.  Being mugged was no longer a sure thing in the Glades.  He bent double, hands on knees, and coughed, gagging on his laughter.  He couldn’t call Diggle.  The thought of polluting his closest friend’s home, right now, with the filth in his memory was unthinkable.  Roy had leaned on Oliver after committing murder; he couldn’t confess to him either.  His mind conjured up another face, someone who might reserve judgment for the sole reason that life just hadn’t been that dark for him yet.  Oliver called Barry Allen.

~

            The young man dressed in red stood in front of the archer in the foundry basement.

            “You got here much quicker than I’d expected,” Oliver said, leaning back against the steel, medical table.

            “I was already in the area,” Barry replied.  He looked carefully at his mentor and friend.  Truthfully, the usually stoic man looked like Hell. 

            “Felicity.” 

            “She called me.”

            Oliver nodded, knowing Barry knew about his shameful actions.  He went to the refrigerated chest and took out a bag of blood. 

            “I drew off a number of units of blood in the past so I could transfuse them if I was injured,” he handed it to Barry.  “I need you to test it against my blood now.”  He met the young scientist’s gaze with difficulty.  “I think something’s…wrong with me.”

            “I don’t understand how something like _that_ happened.”

            “I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Oliver said.  “It’s a bit fuzzy in my head.”  He rubbed his forehead, tiredly.  “Since I came back after the duel, I haven’t been myself.”

            “It was easier to accept you killing people in the past.”

            It hurt to hear that from someone who’d admired him.  Barry wasn’t trying to ease the blow.  “I didn’t think you could hurt Felicity.”

            “Neither did I,” he replied, quietly.  “I need you to run whatever tests you can think of.  DNA, drugs, anything that could explain my…symptoms.”

            “Tell me what the symptoms were.”  Barry cleared his throat and crossed his arms, leaning against the table beside him.  He’d switched into his scientific self.  Oliver described the headaches, dizziness and dramatic mood swings he’d been having since returning.  He told his friend about everything he could think of, and managed to answer the more personal questions that came at him.  “You said you felt stronger urges than usual.  Was there anything different about when they happened?”

            “Whenever I got close to Felicity.  It started as soon as I was in her proximity.”

            “Just being close to her?” Barry asked. “Did you get excited by hurting her?”

            “I didn’t realize what I was doing,” he replied, feeling like he was making excuses.  “I remember feeling jealous, asking questions-” his lips tightened into a thin line.  “I kissed her.  I wanted her to want to be with me.”  He shook his head at the memory.  “All of the thoughts were happening at the same time but I couldn’t seem to focus on any one idea for long.”

            Barry drew blood samples from the bag and from Oliver’s arm.  He labeled them, carefully and used a cooler with ice from the bar to keep the samples chilled.

            “I’ll get Caitlin working on it right away.”

            “Thank you, Barry.”

            “Sure.” Barry looked like he wanted to say something but ultimately kept it to himself.  Before he left, Oliver asked him about Felicity.

            “Is she okay?”

            “She’s upset.  I can definitely say you should steer clear of her apartment until we have some answers.”

            “She said that?”

            “I’m not going to tell you what she said, I will say she made it very clear she wanted to be alone for a few days.”

            Oliver noted the quietly veiled warning and bid the younger man goodbye. 

~

            Physically spent, Oliver showered before falling into his bed at the loft.  It was after two in the morning and he tried to fall asleep.  The last image he saw was Felicity crying. 

            Oliver dreamed of the fall from the cliff, the same way he did every night.  Tonight, however, a hand reached out to catch him.  He was enveloped in a warm embrace that chased away the cold.  He felt physical comfort for the first time in what felt like an eternity.  He was welcomed, he was touched, and he felt the soft curves of the woman’s body against his own.  Wrapping her comfortably in his arms, he enjoyed the breath on his neck and the sleepy weight of her limbs on him as she cuddled his side.  His body responded to her closeness and he pressed kisses to her face, rolling them over. 

            Felicity lay beneath Oliver, but something was wrong.  She was saying something he couldn’t hear.  Surely it could wait, he felt so good.  He pushed her legs apart and tried to kiss her.  He couldn’t find her lips in the dark and wanted to laugh at the absurdity.  Their limbs tangled and kept getting in the way.  He solved the problem by holding her arms still while he entered her body.  She was still saying something and trying to touch him, but when he released her arms she struck him.  He felt so good and wanted to share it with her.  Surely she must want the same thing.  Surely.

            Oliver sat up in his bed, trembling.  He fumbled with his sheets, initially searching for the woman.  Felicity.  The dream began to fade and he rubbed a hand over his face, wiping the sweat from his eyes.  He stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower.  Stepping under the cool spray, he stood and waited for the cold water to turn warm.  He rinsed his body and toweled off, returning to bed and lying awake, staring at the ceiling.  He wanted to call Felicity, to hear her voice would reassure him.  Barry had been right, he needed to stay away from her. Oliver thought about the drunken hook-ups he’d had as a younger man and part of him feared that if he was capable of harming the woman he loved, he might have failed to heed protests in the past.  He eventually drifted off again, this time, blessedly dreamless.

            Felicity got a phone call the afternoon following Barry’s visit.

            “Hi Caitlin,” she said, answering her cell. 

            “Hi, Felicity,” the other woman’s voice was guarded.  “Are you feeling okay today?”

            “More of the same, Barry might have told you my symptoms.  I’m not having any dizziness, but I have a bit of a headache, achy lower back, and a bit tired.  Otherwise I feel okay.”

            “Did you sleep okay?”

            “I took a sleeping pill, had a glass of wine and passed out for ten hours.”

            “I know it’s a long trip, but are you able to come to Central City?”

            “I thought about that, last night,” Felicity replied.  “I think I can get there in a reasonable amount of time.  I just have to ask my boss a favor.”  She paused and bit her lip.  “Is it something bad?”

            “I have some theories, and so far nothing life-threatening has shown up, I just think seeing you in person might be a good idea.”

            “I’ll call you back in a few minutes once I arrange everything.”

            Felicity called Ray and interrupted him before he could apologize again.

            “Ray, I think I might know why you…acted strangely last night.”

            “You do?” he asked.

            She requested the use of the company jet and promised him an explanation when she returned.

            After she’d made arrangements to meet the pilot at the airstrip, she showered and got dressed in a sleeveless blouse and skirt.  She packed a bag, she didn’t know if she’d need to stay overnight.  She was touching up her makeup in the bathroom when she heard a knock at the door.  Her heart started to hammer in her chest and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting to ten.  She put her lipstick in her bag and walked out to her living room.  It might not be Oliver, she told herself.  Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard a voice to her right.

            “Hello, Ms. Smoak.”

            Felicity jumped nearly a foot and placed her hand over her heart.  Malcolm Merlyn didn’t appear in a puff of smoke like a real magician, but she just hadn’t seen him standing in her kitchen until he’d spoken.  Oliver had that talent, but not quite as effective as the assassin. 

            “Why are you in my apartment?”  She went to her closet and took out her red trench coat. 

            “I wanted to speak with you, about Oliver.”

            “You could’ve called.”  Merlyn gave her a small, polite smile.  “Mr. Merlyn, I’ve made it clear I’m not comfortable talking with you.”  She swallowed hard, not bothering to hide her fear.  She squared her shoulders, walked to the door with her coat over her arm and reached for the doorknob.  She felt his cool fingers brush the skin inside her elbow, stopping her in her tracks.  His touch was gentle, unnervingly so, considering what he was capable of doing.

            “You’re injured.”  He looked more closely at her upper arm.  Felicity hadn’t looked at herself since the night before.  She started to pull away but the gentle pressure the older man applied to the inside of her elbow made her pause.  He wasn’t restraining her, but he could, the soft touch was a reminder.

            “I’m not injured.”

            “What happened last night?” He looked at her with a penetrating gaze.  The place where his fingers came in contact with her skin felt warm and uncomfortable. 

            “I don’t know what you mean.”

            “You’re a terrible liar, Ms. Smoak.”

            “Get out, Mr. Merlyn.”

Oliver’s mentor and enemy nodded and left without another word.  She felt tears well up as soon as the door closed.  She wiped her eyes, added a sweater to her ensemble, and hurried out to her car.  She drove the private airfield on the outskirts of the city.  Ray’s company owned a Cessna Citation-X, it made the trip from Starling to Central City in less than two hours.  Felicity drove to S.T.A.R. Labs in a rental car and greeted Caitlin near the entrance, who embraced her warmly. 

            Felicity’s curiosity got the better of her once they were inside.

            “Being straightforward won’t bother me,” she reassured the biologist, I just need to know what you’ve found.”

            “Surprisingly, there wasn’t anything _particularly_ unusual in Oliver’s blood,” she said, surprising the blonde.  “The most interesting information came from a different sample.”  They entered her lab and she offered Felicity a chair. “Barry swabbed for Oliver’s saliva…on your neck.”

            “Right,” Felicity said, quickly. 

            “There was something present in your sweat.  It degrades quickly so I wanted to get a live sample and run tests here.”  Her brow wrinkled and she looked at her friend closely.  “Do you feel feverish right now?”

            “A little,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.  “My headache is back, too.”

            “Let’s check you out.”

            Once comfortably seated in Caitlin’s lab, Felicity let her take swabs from behind her knees, at the crook of her elbow and under her arms, places where sweat tended to be concentrated.  Together, they put the cotton pads on the table. 

            “Did I miss the show?”

            The women turned to greet Dr. Harrison Wells as he rolled his chair towards them.

            “I was just about to turn off the lights,” Caitlin said. 

            “I didn’t know anyone else would be here,” Felicity said, rubbing the back of her neck, nervously. 

            “I asked Dr. Harrison, Cisco and Barry to be available in case I needed to measure their reactions.”

            “I assure you,” Wells said, stopping beside her, “you’re quite safe with me.”

            “That’s what I thought last night,” Felicity said, nervously. 

            “We’ll be quick,” Caitlin promised. 

            She turned off the lights and took a black light wand over to the table and turned it on.  Felicity stepped forward eagerly when she saw the immediate results.  One of the cotton pads was glowing brightly and the others had traces of something autoflourescing.  Wells rolled over to the table and examined the pads carefully. 

“Which one was this?” he asked, pointing to the brightest. 

“Crook of the right elbow,” Caitlin said, handing the light to Wells who turned to Felicity.  She extended her arm and the black light revealed traces of the same glow all over her skin concentrated brightest at her elbow.  She could actually make out two solid ovals of bright color on the spot where Malcolm Merlyn’s fingers had touched her.

“That evil son of a bitch,” she whispered.  “I’ve been dosed.”

“Could you excuse us?” Caitlin asked Wells.  He complied and Felicity undressed behind a screen where the black light revealed her body covered in light.  Areas where she’d sweated more had higher concentrations, but there were specks of glowing material over her entire body.  There was a swirled pattern on the back of her neck and shoulders, out from which the largest area of glow had spread.  She remembered the sneaky shoulder rub and fought back tears.  “I want to get this checked before it degrades,” Caitlin left her to dress and she came out into the lab. 

Cisco, Barry and Dr Wells had gathered around the computer console in the main room.  Felicity opted to stay in the lab with Caitlin.  She stood up with a triumphant smile. 

“I’ve got it.”  She brought Felicity out to the main room.  “It’s a synthetic liquid that contains traces of flower pollen and insect hormone.”

“Um, what?” Cisco asked.

“I think I know what Dr. Snow has discovered.”  Dr. Wells turned to Felicity, “Someone took hormones from flowers and insects-”

“Probably orchids and honeybees,” Caitlin cut in.

“-and used them to make synthetic sex hormone to mimic the _human_ sex hormone.”  He smiled at her.  She shifted from one foot to the other “Do you need to make a phone call?”

Felicity went to pick up her phone and sent a text message to Oliver.  She couldn’t be certain where he was but he called her less than a minute later. 

“Are you alone?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered, breathlessly.  “Felicity, I don’t-”

“Later, Oliver.  I’m at S.T.A.R. labs with Caitlin, they ran some tests on me and found a synthetic sex hormone that Merlyn’s been dosing me with.”  She licked her lips nervously.  “He’s done it a few times, including today.”

“Don’t come back here,” Oliver said, quickly.  “And stay away from Barry Allen.”

“I might need to ask you some questions later, keep your phone on you.  The blood sample you gave him seems normal.”

“Okay.” He paused.  “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”  Felicity hung up and re-joined the group, standing several feet away.

“During the Cold War,” Wells began, taking off his glasses and polishing them, “there were rumors of some Chinese scientists who were working on synthetic hormones.”  He put his glasses back on before continuing.  “Some were intended to bring out the aggression in soldiers, so theoretically they could spray the men without them knowing and make the enemy soldiers fight amongst themselves.”

“Russia tried it too with their sleeper agents.  Using sex hormones to manipulate men.”

“Only men?”

“The majority of sex hormones are only given off by females of different species, meant to attract males,” Caitlin added. 

“Ew,” Felicity said, wrinkling her nose.  “It’s like hunters smearing doe pee on their shoes to shoot a buck.”

“That’s pretty much what they were doing,” Wells concluded.  “Clearly someone else had a similar idea.”

“The other symptoms you described: flushing, headache, backache, fatigue are pretty normal symptoms to get, if you think about it.”

“Of course,” Felicity said, face palming, “It’s like being pre-menstrual.”

“Barry said he was affected by it,” Wells said, gesturing to her friend who nodded. 

“I was only there for a short time, but being within a foot of her for more than ten minutes and I started to feel physiological effects.”  The young scientist smiled sheepishly.  “I thought she smelled really good and lost my concentration temporarily.”

“That’s what gave us the idea to test you here.  A lot of pheromones break down once they’re away from the body.  You were absorbing it through your skin and sweating it out, affecting the people around you.”

The group set up some baseline tests using Cisco as the guinea pig.  He used a sealed oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and sat, talking with Felicity while his vitals were monitored.  Then he took off the mask and ran the same tests.

After ten minutes of being together, the young engineer was flushed, sweating and had trouble focusing.  When Barry walked in the room and hugged Felicity, briefly, Cisco’s blood pressure spiked and he started to feel irritable.

 “I’ll go get some fresh air,” Cisco said, checking his watch.  “I’ll mark the time it takes to feel normal again.”

Caitlin and Dr. Wells remained with Felicity, but the latter chose to remain a bit farther away.  Felicity opted to tell them about Malcolm Merlyn’s actions and his recent behavior.

 “I suspect he’s been increasing the dose, with each encounter.” Dr. Wells theorized.  “Barry reacted to you more quickly than Oliver or your employer.  Cisco was even faster and _he_ knew what to expect. Whomever did this might have wanted to push Oliver to alienate _everyone_.  If he saw other men as rivals and ended up hurting you, he’d have nothing left to lose.”  He put his chair in reverse and backed away from her.

“Are you okay?”

“Starting to feel a little warm in here,” Wells said, turning his chair around and pointing it at the door.  “I’m going to call someone I know in biochemistry to find out what can counteract the effects, and if they’re temporary.”  He looked back over his shoulder.  “I’m glad you came to us, Felicity Smoak.”

            Felicity spent another twenty-four hours in Starling City, checking how the levels of hormone in her body changed.  Once it started to drop steadily, they sent her home with a strong herbal oil extract that masked the hormone fairly effectively.  She called Oliver before takeoff and he agreed to meet her when the plane landed.

            During the flight home, Felicity thought back to her encounters with Merlyn and when he might have started dosing her.  Knowing that Oliver had been influenced by a chemical didn’t make his reactions to her less frightening to remember.  She’d wanted, so badly, for there to be an explanation that made sense, something that could push Oliver’s culpability away.  She’d wanted him to not be responsible for his actions.  She knew, in her heart, that she wanted to forgive him.

            Another thought occurred to Felicity.  If Merlyn had dosed her in the restaurant, it might have been influencing Oliver’s actions before they’d become lovers.  The possibility of his affections being manufactured made Felicity feel cold inside.  She knew she was over thinking the situation before even returning to the city, but the complex nature of her problem was frustratingly rare.  She didn’t think there was a precedent for how to move on from this.  Ultimately it would come down to choice.


	5. Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Starling City brings a new danger for Felicity and Oliver.  
> ***This chapter contains depictions of non-consensual sexual contact and violence***

When the plane landed in Starling City, Felicity dabbed the essential oil mixture on her neck, elbows, and knees.  She wore a strong anti-perspirant to hold back as much sweat as possible.  She saw Oliver standing just inside the hangar, wearing jeans and his pea coat.  Her heart fluttered at the sight of him.  Descending from the Cessna’s steps, he approached the base and reached for her bag.  They stared at each other for a moment before Oliver reached for her hand. 

            “Let’s go,” he said, giving her a tight smile.  He looked a little shy and uncertain, something he rarely was. 

            “Did you talk to Merlyn?” she asked, taking her car keys out of her pocket and using the remote to unlock the door.  She opened the back door for her bag.

            “I haven’t seen him since you-”

            Oliver’s hands landed on Felicity’s shoulders and his weight pinned her against the car.  His arms trembled as he tried to push her into the back seat.

            Felicity started to fight until she realized he was unable to stand.  She saw a small trickle of blood on his neck and grabbed him around the chest.  Her attempts to wrangle him into her car were hampered by his fumbling attempts to block her body with his. 

            “Merlyn,” he mumbled before collapsing onto the ground.  Felicity’s urge to run was overcome by her common sense.  She couldn’t outrun an arrow, or a bullet, depending on the assassin’s plans for her. She couldn’t however, stop trying to save Oliver.  She pulled him into a sitting position on the ground and slapped his face.

            “Oliver, wake up!” she shouted into his face, feeling hot tears of fear and frustration run down her cheeks.  A shadow fell over her and she looked up at the man who’d orchestrated her misfortunes.  His bright blue eyes held little emotion. 

            “Do I need to drug you?” he asked, sliding a small, metal cylinder with a wicked-looking needle into the barrel of a gun that resembled an old German Luger. 

            “What did you give him?” Felicity turned back to Oliver and held his face in her hands.  His eyes had rolled back in his head but he was breathing.

            “Ketamine,” he replied and Felicity closed her eyes.  Oliver could be in a coma for a while, depending on the dose.  “Get up, Ms. Smoak.”  She obeyed, propping Oliver against the car door.  She faced him, brushing off her skirt, absently.  “You’ve changed your perfume,” he said.

            “Yes,” she said.  “It’s a bit less-hazardous than the one you gave me.” The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

            “See you soon,” he said and pulled the trigger. 

            Felicity felt an ache in her arm and opened her eyes groggily.  She felt nauseous from the spinning.  She blinked and tried to remember why the room was spinning.  She felt a cool mist on her face and neck.  She turned away from it but felt arms slide under her knees and shoulders before lifting her from the hard surface on which she’d been lying.  She started to get sensation back in her limbs but still felt heavy.  She was lying on her back again, on a scratchy blanket. 

            “What’s happening?” she groaned, struggling to sit up.  She was in a bedroom, one with a bed and small bathroom in it.  She used the facilities to ease her bladder.  After splashing some cool water on her face she returned to the bedroom.  There were no windows and the plain bedding looked more institutional than hotel and the door appeared to be solid wood.  It was locked of course but she pounded on it out of frustration.

            A groan from across the room caught Felicity’s attention.  She turned around quickly and fought the wave of dizziness that washed over her.  She walked around the bed and saw a limp form on the floor.  Oliver groaned again and tried to lift his head.  The door opened behind her and she stood up.  Malcolm Merlyn walked in and gave her a quick nod. 

            “When did you start dosing me?” she asked. 

            “At the foundry,” he said, stoically.  He wasn’t gloating, if anything he looked uncomfortable.  “You said several people had kissed you and wondered if it was your perfume,” he tilted his head to the side.  “Got me thinking.”

            “You dosed me again, didn’t you?”  He kept eye contact but didn’t smile. “What were you hoping to gain by doing this?” she asked, starting to pace, nervously, and unnerved by the sounds of Oliver stirring.  “Other than giving me PMS?” 

            “Oliver needs to know what he’s capable of.”

            Felicity stared at the handsome murderer.  She was reminded of stories of Josef Mengele, called the Beautiful Devil by her fellow Jews who’d suffered atrocities because he’d wanted to know what humans were capable of.  She’d thought he’d wanted to mess with Oliver’s mind, but he clearly had something far worse planned.  She remembered the feeling of her face and neck being sprayed with something.  She wasn’t sure if he’d washed away the essential oils or just dosed her with more hormone but, there was no getting out of the room, and once Oliver woke, she would be in serious trouble.  She had to convince Merlyn he was making a mistake.

            “Did your wife know you’re a rapist?’  Her words were soft, she didn’t want to wake the sleeping man behind her.  “Did she see the darkness inside you?  Did she spend time among the pimps, whores and drug dealers in the Glades because she felt safer than with you?”

            “I never harmed my wife.”

            “You killed _babies_ when you set off the earthquake in the Glades,” she whispered.  “You killed Sara.”

            “ _Thea_ drew back the bow.”

            “Not being a stick of dynamite doesn’t make you less of a killer when you light the fuse.”  She glanced over her shoulder.  “I won’t ask him to stop,” she said in a quavering voice.

            “You could do that,” he said, nodding.  “It might save you from being injured.”  He was trying to comfort her, to offer her support and advice. 

            “That’s not what I meant,” Felicity said, sniffling.  She wiped her eyes and pretended she couldn’t hear the groan coming from behind her.  She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  “I mean when Oliver comes to his senses and realizes what you’ve done to me, _and_ to him, he’ll probably kill you.”  She cleared her throat to dislodge the lump that threatened to strangle her voice.  “I won’t tell him to stop when he goes to kill you.  I won’t plead for your life the way I did with other criminals.  I won’t ask him to find another way, and I won’t stand by and pretend there’s nothing I can do.”  She raised her chin and forced her lips to stop trembling.  “ _You_ murdered Sara.  Saying you weren’t really the one responsible is like trying to blame the gloves you wear because you didn’t touch the weapon.”  She took a few steps forward until she was inches away from him.  “You’re the one raping me,” she said, looking him in the eye.  “You’re the one who’ll be raping him too.”

            “I have a plan, Ms. Smoak,” he said, clearing his throat.  “It has to be this way.”

            “I can’t think of any positive outcome from doing this to Oliver.”

            “I really am sorry, Felicity.”

            “Don’t call me that.”  She turned away and looked over the room.  She could wash her face but it was probably too late.  If she showered, she’d remove any traces of the essential oils she’d put on her skin to disrupt the effect of the hormone and her antiperspirant, instead she used a washcloth to scrub her face.

            She removed her jacket and shoes, wanting to stay as cool as possible.  She ran a clean towel under the cold tap and removed her shirt and bra, wrapping the cold, wet cloth around her torso, desperate to cool herself down.  She already felt overheated and sweaty.  She thought about Merlyn’s attempt to comfort; could she do it?  Could she give herself to a rough, uncivilized instinct in Oliver’s body.  She reminded herself that he was as much a victim as she under the circumstances.  She thought about Thea and how she must have felt after learning she’d killed her friend without being aware.

            Felicity tried to put herself in Oliver’s place as she put her bra and shirt back on.  If she woke up to find a naked, bound and gagged Oliver with whom she’d been having sex after being slipped a roofie, she’d feel pretty horrible.  She had no electronics, no weapons, and very few options other than to strangle Oliver with the belt from her coat before he woke.  She wouldn’t do that, not even to save herself.  He was making a few grunts and groans as he struggled out of his drugged state and it wouldn’t be long before he was lurching to his feet.  She had a few minutes before he could reach her, and he’d be groggy at first; she knew a little about ketamine, perhaps the sedative effect would last long enough to keep him from…performing. 

            Felicity went over the panels of the wall, looking for seams, cracks, anything that might give her access to wires.  Instead of control panels, she found cameras.  A small hole had been drilled in the wall on either end of the room, making space for a tiny camera.  With her fingernails, she managed to work it forward far enough to grasp and yanked it hard.  She got a foot of fiber optic cable with it until she felt resistance.  She wrapped it around her hands and braced her foot on the wall, pulling until something on the other side of the wall gave way.

            Landing on her side with a grunt, Felicity ended up with a few feet of sturdy cable.  She went to the other side of the room and started to dig the other camera out when she heard a voice come from the ceiling. 

            “If you remove the cameras, I won’t know if I have to stop him from killing you.”

            “When I get out of here, Oliver will be the _least_ of your problems!”  She’d already decided to empty every bank account he had hidden around the world.  She hadn’t decided to send it to Greenpeace, the Red Cross, or a charity that dug wells in impoverished nations.  She was pretty sure she’d send some to the women’s crisis centers nationwide.  It seemed poetic.  She heard a shuffling sound behind her and saw Oliver on his feet.  He leaned one hand on the edge of the bed and sat, rubbing his head.  She braced her foot against the wall and pulled.  The noise drew his attention and he turned to face her. 

            Oliver’s gaze looked vacant and confused.  Felicity dropped the cable she was pulling and ran at him, crashing into his side and knocking him over.  She hated to hurt him but rolling him onto his stomach and bringing his hands behind his back seemed like the best option.  She wrapped the cable around his wrists and then between his hands.  She felt tears spill over her cheeks when she couldn’t pull it tight enough to make a secure knot.  He was starting to struggle now and she was out of time, she guessed he would be out of the restraints in under a minute.  Jumping to her feet, she went back to the wall and pulled at the cable again.  After using all of her strength and getting no more results, Felicity rested her head against the wall, sobbing quietly.  The bathroom had no door, only a curtain and it was made of a thick plastic that couldn’t be torn into strips.  She eyed the blanket on the bed.  It was heavy wool, and wouldn’t tear easily.  The sheets, however, might be an option. 

            A hand settled on Felicity’s shoulder, making her cringe.  It patted her, gently and turned her around.  Oliver stood, swaying slightly on his feet.  He was trying to focus on her face.  She reached for the table lamp but it was bolted to the small table.  She tried to pull the table close to her but it was bolted to the floor.

            “What _is_ this place?” she screamed at the ceiling in frustration as strong arms wrapped around her.  She was pulled against the solid, familiar chest while hands stroked her hair.  Giving up the fight, she cried into his shirt while he rubbed her back.  She didn’t know how much time she had until the ketamine wore off and the hormones kicked his libido into gear.  She cried for them both because Oliver would never express himself that way.  He’d internalize and blame himself.  She didn’t want to give up, but she didn’t see a way to save herself.  Starling City needed a functional vigilante, not one crippled by guilt, or unfocused with rage.  She didn’t think she could manage to knock him unconscious without hitting him so hard it risked his life. 

            Killing Oliver was definitely out of the question.  He leaned his cheek against Felicity’s hair and rubbed the silky mass against his beard-roughened cheek.  A few strands caught in the bristly hair on his jaw and stayed against his face when she tilted her head back to look at him.

            “Felicity,” he said, wrinkling his forehead.  “What’s happening?”

            “We’re trapped,” she said, quickly.  “Merlyn drugged us and put us in here.”

            “Merlyn?”

            “Focus, Oliver!”  She drew back her hand and slapped him.  “Wake up, shake it off, we need to find a way out of here, fast.”

            Oliver’s head snapped back and he stood up, quickly.

            “Why did you do that?”

            “We’re in serious trouble if we don’t get out of this room immediately.”  She spared a glance at the front of his pants, so far no sign of life.  “Can you boost me up to reach the ceiling light?”

            Oliver was trying to focus but from the needle mark in her arm, she guessed she’d been given something to reverse the effect of the drug where he seemed to be coming around more slowly.  She might not have even been given ketamine; Merlyn might have lied about what he gave Oliver too.  She couldn’t take anything for granted right now. 

            “The light?”

            “There are cameras in here, I took two of them out but there’s an audio feed as well.”  She pointed up to the ceiling and he nodded, leaning over and wrapping his thick arms around her legs, just above the knee, and lifted her straight up.  He swayed slightly, trying to balance, but managed to lift her just underneath the light.  She unscrewed the metal center screw that held the frosted glass cover over the bulbs.  She took it off and dropped it on the bed before examining the fixture.  A third camera fed down through the ceiling tile, this one she recognized and knew it had a microphone that was sensitive enough to pick up quiet voices.  She pushed at the tile and it shifted, giving her a little hope.

            Felicity felt Oliver’s thumb rubbing against the back of her knee, small circles with the tip of the digit and she closed her eyes, swallowing hard.  She was almost out of time.  She took off an earring and jammed the post into the rubber ring that ran around the outside of the camera/microphone.  The round body of the earring blocked the camera and hopefully a little of the sound.  The tile that moved was too small for her to pull herself through and the others didn’t budge, crushing her hopes for escape. 

            “Okay, let me down,” she said, patting his shoulder.  Oliver turned around and let her fall back onto the bed.  She bounced and sat up.  He stood at the end of the bed, staring at her.  Her own gaze moved lower and saw the evidence that the synthetic hormone dose had been too much for the residual essential oils.  “Oliver, you have to try not to think about sex.”

            “What?” he focused on her face. 

            “Do you remember what I told you?” she asked, moving to the side of the bed.  “After you hurt me, I told you that Malcolm Merlyn had given me a synthetic hormone to make you try to hurt me.”

            “I remember.”  He still seemed sedated and Felicity guessed it might have been on purpose to make his frontal brain a little less in-control.  “I hurt you.”

            “Yes,” she said.  “You hurt me even though you didn’t want to.”  He moved to the side of the bed and cupped her face in his palm.  “You remember that?”

            “I’m so sorry,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. 

            “You can’t let him do this to you, to us.”

            “Do you love me, Felicity?” he whispered.

            “Yes, Oliver, I do.”  She placed her palms on the sides of his face and closed her eyes.  “But I don’t want to do this in here, with the cameras, and the ketamine.”

            “You love me,” he said, softly, pressing his lips against hers.  “I love you.”  He kissed the corner of her mouth and then the side of her neck; light, feathery kisses to her shoulder.  Felicity felt his thumb brush away the tears that fell from her eyes.  “It’s okay,” he said, pressing her down onto her back.  “I’m here, it’s okay.”  He pressed his lips to her temple and unbuttoned her blouse, fumbling slightly with drugged hands.  She realized she’d already made her decision.  She wouldn’t fight him.  He might not remember what had happened and after everyone he’d lost, she could try to save him from losing himself.  She tried to think of the first night they’d spent together but couldn’t bring herself to use those memories or to try to feel stimulated, it just wasn’t right.

            Oliver’s senses would be telling him he had a green light.  From Cisco’s description, he would have trouble focusing on one thought when under the influence of the synthetic spray and a sedative. Felicity closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing even.  Oliver kissed and caressed her, pulling his own shirt over his head.  His face was flushed and sweaty.  He rolled onto her, reaching for his belt.

~

            Felicity kept her eyes closed, not wanting to watch Oliver.  He lifted his weight off her torso and she heard the clink of the belt buckle and the rasp of the zipper. 

            “Please stop, Oliver,” she whispered.  His hands were on the sides of her face again, he kissed her mouth, gently.

            “Kiss me,” he sighed.

            “No, Oliver.”  She wouldn’t fight him but she wouldn’t respond, either.  Tonight was about survival, her future psychiatric health depended on what she did in the next few minutes.  Kissing him now, caressing and encouraging him would taint any future embrace she encountered. 

            “No?” His question surprised her.  She opened her eyes and saw his flushed face.  His eyes were bright and fevered but focused.  He took her hand and pushed it down, into the open front of his jeans and he wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft.  He was so hard he throbbed at her touch. 

            “Oliver, I don’t want to do this.”  She brought her hand back up to cup his face.  “I don’t want to do this.”

            “Okay.”  He nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear, rolling to the side and pulling her on top of him.  Felicity kept one knee on the mattress beside his leg and tried not to feel his enormous erection poking her in the hip.  She held herself above him and stared down at him, sliding off the edge of the bed until her foot touched the floor.  He sat up and held the knee that remained on the bed.  He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly.  He pulled her other leg back up onto the bed and she held his bare shoulders for balance.  Feeling her touch on his skin, his grip on her waist tightened.  She wasn’t sure he understood what she’d been saying.

            Felicity wondered if Merlyn had more cameras; the humiliation of having such an intimate violation watched added more weight to the basket of feelings she currently carried.  She tried to slide off his lap but his hands gripped the fabric of her skirt and he stood up, abruptly.  He barely swayed now, moving his hands under her bottom and pressing his lips to the side of her neck. 

            “Oliver,” she said, calmly when her back touched the wall. His breathing was getting heavy and currently her underwear was the solitary barrier standing between their bodies.  Felicity closed her eyes when she felt him brushing against the cotton fabric.  The sedative wasn’t keeping him physically weakened any longer, and he was too strong for her to fight.  “Oliver, please stop,” she said, her voice rose in pitch. She was suppressing the urge to push him, or strike him.  She felt him continue to kiss the side of her neck, gently biting her nape.  He rubbed against her in slow, thrusting waves.  She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from hitting him.  He was trying to excite her and it was almost worse than if he’d been rough. 

“You smell so good.”  When he whispered the words against her neck he moved her panties aside.  She felt him, swollen and hot against her entrance; she wasn’t ready, and he was just starting to push inside when she felt pain and gave in to her fear. She shoved at his shoulders, sobbing frantically.  “Let me go, Oliver. Please, you need to let me go, now.” He stopped and set her down, gripping a fistful of hair.  She winced but he didn’t strike her or try to kiss her.  He was holding her still and staring into her face.  She couldn’t stop her tears long enough to focus.  She held her arms up between them and he backed up, pulling her against his chest.  His skin was slippery with sweat and he still gripped her hair, pressing her face against him. 

Oliver’s fingers relaxed slowly and he stroked Felicity’s hair again. He set her away from him and stumbled to the bathroom.  She dropped to her knees in relief as she heard the water turn on in the sink.  With shaking fingers she re-buttoned her blouse and leaned back against the bed.

It took several minutes before the cold water managed to cut through the fog in Oliver’s brain.  He’d been in a dream-like state, and could recall only flashes of what happened since the airstrip.  He remembered Felicity crying and pushing him away, the way she had in her apartment.  He forced himself to count, slowly.  When in doubt, focus on math, he reminded himself.  He counted to three, and then ten, and then twenty before his mind started to clear.  His hands shook and he splashed more water over his face and chest.  He noticed the state of his body and gingerly tucked his aching erection behind his zipper. 

“Felicity?” he called out.

“Oliver?” he heard her watery voice from behind him. 

“Stay there, don’t come in here.”  He splashed his face and put the plug in the drain, filling the sink bowl with water.  He submerged his face, holding his breath for as long as possible while his synapses started to fire again.  Once he felt clearer, he returned to the bedroom.  Felicity looked a bit tousled and her face was blotchy and streaked with tears.  “Get in the corner,” he said, moving to the other end of the small room. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, sinking to the floor with his back against the opposite wall.  “What happened?”

“Merlyn tranquilized you, he said it was Ketamine.  He sprayed me with more of that synthetic hormone and locked us in here.”  She sniffled and wiped her face on the corner of the sheet from the bed. “He told me it was necessary for you to know what you’re capable of doing.”

“Like Thea, he wanted her to feel like she was a killer, so she’d be like him.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I thought I was dreaming,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall.  He glanced up at the naked light bulb and the shiny piece of silver.  His memory sparked, briefly.  He’d embraced her while she was crying and trying to pull a wire out of the wall.  He looked at the wall and saw the video cable dangling down to the carpet.  If it was still functional, it wouldn’t show anything but carpet fibers.  He glanced up at the light and saw the silver piece of jewelry.  He felt a rush of heat to his face, temporarily blurring his memory.

Felicity stood up when Oliver rose to his feet.  He stared at her, naked to the waist with his hands fisted at his sides. His chin was lowered and he was breathing heavily. 

“Oliver?”  She backed away from him as soon as he took a step in her direction.  His jaw was clenched and the veins in his neck and forehead stood out. 

Oliver walked across the bedroom to where Felicity stood.  She had her hands fisted and pressed together under her chin. 

Malcolm Merlyn watched the video monitor in front of him.  He was in the basement of a home that had gone into foreclosure following the arrest of a wealthy man who’d kept illegal aliens as slaves.  The small, windowless bedrooms already had peep holes in them, so he’d just added the cameras.  He’d bought it at auction under one of his aliases.  He pressed his lips together as the one remaining, untouched camera showed a view of the bed from behind the mirror in the bathroom.  The audio still came through, in spite of Ms. Smoak’s attempts to block it.

He’d watched the pair as Oliver Queen’s body took over his common sense.  He’d chuckled at the clumsy attempts the younger man tried to make love to the pretty blonde.  She’d kept her cool throughout most of his pawing but trying to get away from him triggered a more aggressive response.  The doorway had partially blocked his view of them when Oliver lifted her against the wall, but her panicked screams told him the archer had likely had some success.  He’d been surprised to see Oliver break away and soak his head in the sink but his patience paid off when he saw Felicity stand up, suddenly, and back away to the wall. 

Oliver came back into view, walking towards her with tense posture and he heard shouts from the microphone.

“Why are you backing away?” He shouted at the young woman who was clearly petrified.  “I love you and you’re running away!”  She made to bolt past him and Merlyn laughed, where did she think she could go? But Oliver caught her by an arm and with a single swing, tossed her onto the bed.  She bounced before scrambling over to the other side.  She was backed into a corner and Oliver took a shortcut jumping up and walking over the mattress to her, kicking the glass light cover.  He faced the camera now, with Felicity in front of him.  He tore open her blouse and tried to kiss her.  She turned her face away but seemed to have given up.  She was probably afraid he might break her arm if she fought too hard. 

Merlyn shifted, uncomfortably and looked away when he heard Felicity’s screams.  This kind of thing really wasn’t his cup of tea.  It was a necessary evil, he told himself.  Her words came back to haunt him.  _You’ll be the one raping me._ She was back on the bed, curled into a ball on her side, facing the camera and Oliver was behind her, unfastening his jeans.  She’d lost her glasses at this point.  He reached for her and she shuddered, flinching.  He dragged her up to her feet, pulling her against his chest so her back was pressed to his front.  She gripped his forearm which was now locked around her neck and he pawed at her chest.

Oliver lifted the back of Felicity’s skirt and pulled her panties down, lowering them both to the floor.  Merlyn could see Oliver’s back above the top of the low mattress.  Felicity’s screams came through loud and clear.  He looked away from the screen and lowered the volume when her cries appeared to be punctuated, regularly by the grunting of the man on her back.  He watched as Oliver eventually rose to his feet, fastening his pants and backing away from her.  He watched the young man stagger backwards, clutching his chest and doubling over in pain.  He collapsed on the floor and lay still. 


	6. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's memory is affected by sedatives. Felicity has to decide how much she should tell him.

Felicity woke when she heard a commotion outside the observation room in which she rested.  She lifted her aching head off the pillow and sat up, slowly.  Her cheek under her right eye felt thick and hot.  She’d had a cold pack on it for a while but had dozed off.  There was a narrow window in the door and she padded, barefoot to peek outside.  She wasn’t locked in, but Lyla Michaels had asked her to stay in the room to avoid any reactions to her pheromone.  She saw Lyla approach her door and stepped back to let her in, putting her glasses on, gingerly.

 “Is that Merlyn?” she asked. 

“No, Oliver’s waking up.  He’s a bit agitated.”

“Is he okay?”

“We had to sedate him to stitch up his hand, so now we’re letting him sleep off whatever drug he was given.”  She gave Felicity a quick smile.  “We have Merlyn in a secure area and we’re keeping him in a medically induced coma until we can find a place that can hold him.”

“I suggest the League of Assassins,” she said, mildly.  “They’ll happily take him off your hands.”

“We’ve been looking for him for a while now, the League will have to bargain if they want him back.”  She smiled at her fiancée’s friend. “Oliver’s been asking for you. He doesn’t seem able to remember much so John’s been staying with him.”

“Thanks for riding to the rescue.” 

“I’m just glad we found you.”

“And thanks for giving me my purse.”  She dug out the spray bottle of Caitlin’s human version of Lust Buster.  “Should I see him?” she asked, spritzing herself liberally.

“I’ll see if-”

“Where is she?” They heard the shout and Felicity jerked the door open.  Oliver was standing in the doorway of another exam room.  Diggle stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” Felicity said and he looked at her.  He seemed relieved and went to her.  He looked closely at her face and the bruise under her eye.  He buried the fingers of his good hand in her hair and pulled her into his chest.

Felicity tensed, gripped the damp cotton of his t-shirt tightly, and shut her eyes.  She tried to calm her racing heart but the feel of his hands on her was too fresh.  She managed to avoid pulling away, and stood her ground.  She reminded herself that he’d saved them.

When Merlyn had entered the room and rolled Oliver over, he’d received a large chunk of glass, taken from the broken light cover, in the side of his neck.  She still shivered however, when she remembered Oliver’s fingers on her naked flesh while she was face-down on the floor.

“Are you okay being out here?” Diggle asked, looking around at the few male agents in the room.

“I’m using a fragrance that masks it fairly well: eucalyptus, spearmint, clove, and some other things.   If I can get home, I’ll quarantine myself till it’s gone.”

“Amanda Waller is sending one of our biochemists who might be able to help you,” Lyla said, bringing Felicity back to the present.

“I appreciate that.”  She stepped back from Oliver’s embrace and looked up at him. “How are you feeling?” she managed to say.

“I was pretty out of it for a while, a bit more awake now.”  He looked around.  “What about Merlyn?”

“They stitched up his neck,” Lyla said, “He’s being kept in a coma till we can find a hole to throw him in,” she finished, dryly. 

“His neck?” Oliver asked, looking between the two women.  “What happened?”

Lyla and Felicity looked at each other. 

“What do you remember?” Lyla asked.

“The airstrip,” he answered, “and then waking up here.”  He looked at both of them.  “What happened?” he asked again.

“We’re running tests on your blood and urine to see what he used to drug you.”

“How did you find us?”

“I called,” Felicity said.  “Diggle called in the cavalry and ARGUS, came to get us.”

“Where were we?”

“A private residence in the north suburbs,” Diggle said, looking closely at Felicity.  “We’re not clear on all the details, yet.”

“Do you remember?” Oliver turned to his blonde friend. 

“Merlyn shot me with a tranquilizer dart at the airport too,” she said, quickly.  “I did wake up before you, but I’m not sure what happened... before that.”  She reminded herself that she wasn’t directly lying.

“Can we go now?” Oliver said, standing stiffly.  “I’d prefer to be someplace else when Amanda Waller gets here.”

Diggle drove them to Felicity’s apartment since they were all fairly certain they were being watched.  No one wanted to draw attention to the foundry.

“I’m pretty tired,” Felicity said. “Roy called, Laurel too, could you let them know I’m okay but I just want a few hours to myself.”

“Sure,” Diggle said.  He turned and walked back to the dark sedan.  Oliver closed her apartment door.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk,” he said, looking solemn. He placed a big hand on her shoulder and squeezed, gently.

“Can it wait?” Felicity asked, with a trembling smile.  She ducked under his hand and went to the bathroom.  “I just want a shower and some rest.”  She saw the flash of hurt in his eyes and then his features softened.

“Of course,” he said, watching her go to the bathroom.  “Mind if I crash on your couch?”

“Help yourself,” she replied. 

Most of the day had been spent on a plane, in a locked room, and in a secret, government base.  Felicity’s muscles were stiff and sore.  She washed herself carefully and dried off, spraying more of the hormone-blocking fragrance on herself before slipping on her sleep shirt.  Oliver was already asleep on the couch when she came out to check on him.  She took a blanket from the end of her bed and brought it out.  He was sprawled on his back with his bandaged hand resting on his chest.  She guessed he was feeling the effects of whatever drugs Merlyn gave him, plus the sedative from ARGUS' doctors because she’d known him to be a pretty light sleeper.  She draped the blanket over him and let him rest.

It was early evening, only a matter of hours since she’d left Central City.  She checked her email and found a fairly innocent-looking message from Caitlin Snow.

_I met someone new.  You’ll have to call me when you get a chance.  I’d love to tell you all about him.  –C_

She didn’t need a book of code words to decipher the message.  Caitlin had new information but it wasn’t urgent.  Diggle had called Barry when Felicity and Oliver had vanished.  He must have reassured them once they’d been found.  She stood up and rubbed her temples.  Much like the previous doses, she was getting a headache and fatigue from the hormones.  She crawled into bed, spraying the sheets and her pillow, liberally.  The heaviness of the events of the day and their future ramifications seemed to have physical weight.  She could barely keep her eyes open, in spite of her anxiety, and drifted off with the scent of eucalyptus in her nostrils.

A suffocating weight pressed Felicity down onto the bed.  She couldn’t free her arms or legs, no matter how hard she kicked.  She cried out but her words were ignored.  She fought for breath, sinking into darkness. Hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her forward, she struck out, blindly.

“No!” she sobbed.  “Oliver, don’t do this.  Please stop!” she had to get through to him.  She had to make him understand.

“Felicity, wake up!”

The bedroom was dark, but light came from the open doorway and she saw a familiar silhouette sitting on the edge of her bed.  She shrank back against her pillows, banging the back of her head against the headboard. 

“Stop!” she rasped.  Her throat was dry and parched.  She held out her hands and they encountered bare skin.  She backed away, frantically, unable to catch her breath.  Her chest contracted, painfully and her breath seemed to rush in and out of her lungs without giving her Oxygen.

“Felicity, you’re safe.”  His voice was calm and soft now.  He went to her desk and switched on her desk light. “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe.”  He wore a towel knotted around his hips and his hair was damp.  He remained where he was but continued to speak.  “You’re home, you’re in your own bed, everything’s okay now.”  He waited while she struggled to catch her breath.  “You were having a nightmare, it was just a dream.  You’re safe now.  I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Felicity began to cry; not out of fear, or even anger, but out of frustration.  Her situation was ridiculous.  Malcolm Merlyn would eventually wake up and he would gleefully tell Oliver what had happened; or what he wanted Oliver to believe.  She was in an impossible place.  She could tell him the detailed truth and try to convince him that none of it was his fault, or she could tell him only that he’d put on a show for their captor in order to secure their release.  She sniffled loudly and looked up at him, his bright blue eyes held a look of helplessness.  She thought about Thea, Laurel, Captain Lance, and everyone else who’d been hurt by secrets.  It was almost always worse when the truth came out.

“You can’t remember anything?” she asked in a watery voice.  He shook his head and handed her a box of tissues.  He looked down at his towel and walked out of the room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said over his shoulder.  He returned in a clean pair of jeans and a gray Henley shirt.  “Thea dropped off some of my clothes,” he said.  “I didn’t want to leave you here, alone.”  He looked at her, still crouched at the far corner of the bed.  “I know you must still be upset about what happened a few nights ago, and if you want someone else here, I understand.”

“You really have no idea what happened,” she whispered shaking her head.  “I wish I didn’t.”

“Diggle said the tests came back positive for Ketamine and Versed.” 

“Of course,” Felicity said, feeling more tears roll down her cheeks.  “It makes sense now.”  She laughed hoarsely.   

“This isn’t about the other night?” he asked.  Felicity shook her head, taking out more tissues and blowing her nose.  She gestured to the small spray bottle on the other side of the bed.  He picked it up and walked over to her.  He handed it to her and sat on the bed a foot away from her, while she sprayed herself again.  “What did Merlyn do to you?”

“He locked me in a bedroom,” she said, drying her sore eye gingerly. 

“I don’t-” Oliver began but she held her hand up and he fell silent.

“He sprayed me with the synthetic sex hormone I told you about, and then he locked me in a bedroom…” she lifted her eyes to his and held his gaze, “with you."

Oliver stood up from the bed, quickly and backed away from Felicity.  Her expression was pained and she reached out a hand, as if to stop him.  “You were drugged and you didn’t-”

“I-I can’t.”  He shook his head and backed up until he was against the wall.    

“Oliver, you need to listen,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Your eye,” he said, pointing to her cheek with a trembling hand.  “I did that to your eye?”

“You saved us, Oliver.”  She got up from the bed and held her hands out.  “You were drugged, you shouldn’t have been able to think straight but you did.”  She watched as he looked at his bandaged hand.

“What did I do?”  He looked at her expression, she fidgeted nervously and bit her lip.  “Felicity, please tell me everything.”

“Okay,” she breathed.  “I don’t know what doses Merlyn gave you.  I woke up and he came into the room to talk to me.  He admitted to dosing me, starting that first day you found us in the foundry.”  She paused and he nodded so she continued.  “He told me you needed to know what you were capable of.”

“What?” He looked angry.  Felicity told him about Merlyn discouraging her from fighting to avoid getting hurt.  Oliver closed his eyes and put his hands over his face. She mentioned trying to pull the cables out of the wall and disabling some of the cameras. 

“And then you woke up.  You were groggy and didn’t have any short-term memory.”  She licked her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.  “You got excited.”

 “You were afraid?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said, sniffling.  “It was an impossible situation, so I tried to talk to you, distract you.”

“Did I-”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  She remembered him holding her against the wall, his erection beginning to enter her, but she couldn’t say anything more.  “I tried to be brave and noble about the whole thing.  I ended up dissolving into hysterics anyway.  But that’s what made you stop.”

“Stop?”

“You woke up a little more.”

“What happened next?”

“You put your head in a sink of cold water.  You seemed to clear up a little; you came up with a plan to get Merlyn into the room.”

“How?”

“You showed him what he wanted to see.”  Felicity took in a jerky breath.  “You got angry and rough.  You shouted a lot and we… struggled.”  She licked her lips, nervously.  “When you threw me on the bed, my glasses jabbed into my face.”  She saw his mouth tighten into a thin line.  “It had to look realistic. You pretended to get sick and collapse.  He came in and you stabbed him with a broken piece of glass from the light cover.”

“That’s how we got out?”

“Yes.”  She inhaled deeply.  “It was pretty nerve-wracking for me; I didn’t know what was going to happen.”  She choked a little when tears began to fall.  “I know you weren’t in the driver’s seat, and I know you can’t remember, but it’s just going to take me a little time to stop remembering you like that.”

Oliver nodded, accepting her explanation.  She tentatively put her arms around his waist and he hugged her to him, gently petting her hair. 

“Do you want to be alone for a little while?”

“I just need to get my head back on, straight,” she said, nodding. 

“I know Merlyn’s not a threat right now, but I can ask Diggle or Roy to watch the house.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said, placing her hand on his cheek. 

Oliver took a cab back into town and pulled up Lyla Michaels’ phone number.  She answered on the second ring.

“Hey,” she said, softly, and he could hear gurgling noises in the background. 

“Sorry to bother you, I just have a quick question.”  He waited while she handed the baby to her fiancée. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Felicity told me there were cameras in the room where Merlyn kept us.  Is there a recording?”

Felicity called Caitlin as soon as she got up in the morning.  The biologist told her she had express mailed a bottle of a less-fragrant version of the pheromone-blocking herbal mixture she’d originally given her.  She said the new version contained a pheromone that, instead of covering the sex hormone, might neutralize it. 

“I took a page from something I read about dogs,” she said, adding, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No problem.”

“Well they’ve made a spray, it’s called ‘Lust Buster’, and it mimics the scent of a bitch that’s been bred.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Felicity said.  “How effective is it?”

“I tested it on Cisco, he seemed fine.”

“Okay, so I need to spray it on?”

“It’s a body wash, use it twice a day, and there’s a spray bottle too, use that before you go out.”

“Okay.”

“Are you really okay?”

“No, do you remember when Barry was affected by the meta-human who made people angry?”

“Yeah.”

“Two hundred times worse.”

“Do you need to get out of the city?  You can come and stay with me if you want.”

 “Being around familiar surrounding is good for me,” she said.  “I’m going to order some Thai food and marathon some streaming shows.”

“Call me if you have any immediate reactions, rash, burning, itching.  Just let me know.”

Felicity hung up after promising to keep Caitlin updated.  She cleaned her apartment, called and checked in with Roy and Diggle.  Oliver didn’t answer when she tried his phone.  When her doorbell rang, she answered it and was surprised to see Amanda Waller standing in her doorway.

“Ms. Smoak, may I have a word?”

“Uh, okay.”

Felicity stepped aside and let the other woman in.  She offered her a seat.

 “Can you tell me about the effects of this synthetic hormone?”

            “You get right to the point, don’t you?”  Waller wasn’t in business as a hospital where specially trained counselors comforted and soothed, and ARGUS didn’t have a Women’s Crisis Center.  “You want to know how effective it is, right?” Felicity didn’t hide her irritation.  “Something that can make men vulnerable to seduction with minimal effort would be useful to someone like you.”

“It’s the job of someone like me,” she replied, “-to find and exploit every resource at my disposal in order to run my team.”

“I’m not your resource, Ms. Waller. I was going to cooperate as a courtesy for rescuing us, but you have Malcolm Merlyn and I’m the one who gave him to you. ”

“You could be-” she began, slowly.

“Ms. Waller, I’ve had a hellish week, a worse day, and yes, you could do many unpleasant things in order to force my cooperation.” She stood up and faced the other woman.  “It’s what you do.  I get it, but let’s cut the bullshit.  I was considered collateral damage by a psychopath who wanted to tear my life to shreds by using drugs to force a good man to do something he could never take back and never forgive himself for.  I don’t see you taking the moral high ground when that opportunity presents itself again.  And I won’t help you destroy someone else’s life because you need a victim.”

“Ms. Smoak, I understand you’ve had a traumatic experience, but I’m someone who wants to protect the people around me, just like you.”

“The difference between you and me, Ms. Waller, is that there are lines I won’t cross.”


	7. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver watches the recording of what happened in the room and goes to talk to Felicity. She won't let him label what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the feedback. The confusion about what did or didn't happen is intentional. I gave only the point of view of an outside observer because that is the only perspective Oliver will have. He has no memory of the events and will try to draw his own conclusions.

Closing the door after Amanda Waller left, Felicity had to catch her breath.  She didn’t like confrontation, especially with someone as dangerous as Waller.  She was no hero, and she had no business insulting someone like that.  She had told Caitlin that she was going to order Thai food, now she couldn’t disappoint herself; not when she was looking forward to it so much. It was late afternoon and she felt she’d accomplished enough.  She opened a chilled bottle of Riesling, turned on some music and sipped her glass while she waited for delivery.  She looked around her clean, empty apartment and realized she was missing Oliver.  She rubbed a hand over her forehead and sighed, he did deserve the whole truth.  The truth was more than just the facts.

 How could Felicity tell him when she didn’t think she could even say the words out loud?  There were technical words she could use, like penetrate.  There were medical terms, legal terms, euphemisms, and crude jokes that she could use to get the details out; just the tip, only an inch or two, just the bell end.

The doorbell rang and Felicity looked out the window.  The delivery truck was parked outside so she peeked out her peephole and answered the door.  After paying for her food, she took down a plate and served herself some coconut curry.  The food, wine and music didn’t distract her from rehashing the events of the last few weeks.  She wanted to scream and shout that it wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair that she and Oliver had spent one amazing night together before Merlyn started to drug her.  She wondered how much of an influence the pheromone had on their relationship afterwards.

Oliver sat with Diggle in one of the tech offices where Lyla had put them.  She couldn’t remove the recording from the building, and she couldn’t give them access to the disk; instead, they were allowed to see a digital copy that had been cleaned and enhanced.  She’d said she was surprised when, at the last minute, Amanda Waller had told her to show Oliver the recording. 

            “I asked Felicity what Merlyn did to her.” Oliver said to Diggle when they were alone.  “She woke up screaming from a nightmare and I thought something might have happened while I was unconscious.  Apparently he gave me Versed to make me more cooperative and gave her a big dose of pheromones and locked us in a room together.”  He took a deep breath, he hadn’t been this nervous to see a film since the first time he’d downloaded something from a porn site on his dad’s computer. “When she woke up,” he said, looking Diggle in the eye, “She was saying ‘stop Oliver’.”

            “I thought you were unconscious the whole time.”  Diggle looked away, as if he remembered something.  “When you saw Felicity at the ARGUS lab, she said something funny.  She said you were both drugged but she didn’t tell you she knew what had happened.”

            “You knew?”

            “Not for sure, she didn’t say much,” he said, “but she looked pretty roughed up; clothes torn, bruise on her face.”  He put his hand on Oliver’s shoulder.  “She said you were both drugged and sedated, she didn’t actually say when she woke up, or when you did.  Just that she woke up before you.  I thought _Merlyn_ might have done something to her.”

            “She told me it wasn’t my fault,” Oliver said.  “It was one of the first things she said, in fact; that it wasn’t my fault.”

            “You think she’s trying to protect you?”

            “Yeah, but I have to know, either way.”

            “If you’re sure.”  Diggle pressed play on the video feed.  They saw several views of the same room.  Eventually, Malcolm Merlyn walked in, carrying Oliver over his shoulder and dumping him on the floor between the bed and the wall.  Next he carried Felicity in and laid her on the bed.  They watched her move around the room, eventually discover Oliver and then the conversation with the assassin and her questions.

            _“Oliver needs to know what he’s capable of.”_ Merlyn’s voice sounded thinner, higher pitched on the audio track.

            _“Did your wife know you’re a rapist?”_   Oliver wanted to cheer for Felicity.  She was smart, trying to make the man feel guilt.  She reminded him that he’d killed children and that his manipulation of his own daughter made him more responsible than Thea, herself, was.

            “She knew,” Diggle said, quietly.  “She knew what he was going to do.” 

            _“I won’t ask him to stop.”_   Oliver sat forward on the edge of his seat.

            _“You could do that.  It might stop you from being injured.”_   The earnest sympathy on Merlyn’s face made Oliver ill.  He listened to her explain that she intended to allow Oliver to kill him without an argument. 

            Oliver covered his mouth with his hand.  Felicity stood, toe to toe with a dangerous man and told him he was the person raping both of them.  She was pleading for Oliver as well as herself.

            Merlyn apologized and Felicity threw it back at him.  Diggle cleared his throat and leaned back in order to move farther back from the screen while Felicity made her desperate efforts to wash and cool her body.  They could see her thought process go to escape and eventually, to striking out the only remaining way she could.  She worked on the second camera cable when Merlyn issued his threat that he’d need to watch in order to potentially save her.  Oliver watched his Felicity snarl her own threat at him. 

            Watching his own, drugged self doing something he didn’t remember was unnerving.  Felicity tried to restrain him, using the camera cable and returning to pull the second camera.  Her helpless crying made pain twist in his gut.  From the point of view of the camera she was pulling, they both saw Oliver free himself from the ineffective restraints and stumble over to her.  The man on the screen patted her, gently and swayed, getting a little steadier with each moment on his feet.  When she tried to pick up the lamp and table, only to find them un-liftable, she got frustrated.

            _“What is this place?”_   Diggle and Oliver both let out weak laughs at the absurdity of her shouted question.  The tension needed to be broken while they watched their spunky tech support lady struggle to save herself; watched her crying while he held her, trying to get through to her recent lover, blocking a third camera with an earring and eventually their view was narrowed down to the camera in the bathroom.  Zombie Oliver, the nickname he’d given himself, dropped Felicity on the bed and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.  She tried to reason with him, reminding him that he’d hurt her because of Merlyn, and that he hadn’t wanted to. 

            _“Do you love me?”_

            _“Yes, Oliver, I do, but I don’t want to do this in here, with the cameras, and the ketamine.”_

            _“You love me.  I love you.”_ He saw Diggle look away for a moment when Zombie Oliver began kissing Felicity.  He saw her shoulders jerk while she silently cried as he pushed her onto her back, trying to soothe her while undressing her.  She had a tightly fisted hand pressing against her eyes.

            Zombie Oliver rolled on top of Felicity and unfastened his pants.  He felt anger burn in his belly for the stranger who didn’t heed her words. 

            _“Please stop, Oliver.”_

_“Kiss me.”_

_“No, Oliver.”_

_“No?”_   He watched the strange man take her hand and push it between them.  Oliver paused the video and he heard Diggle’s sharp intake of breath.

            “I don’t think I can-”

            “It’s okay, man.  I’ll go.”  Diggle left and he re-started the recording.  She was telling him she didn’t want to do it.  Over and over, she said it, remaining outwardly calm as he pulled her onto his lap and stood up, not appearing to notice her pulling away from him.  He stepped to the wall and he could see only himself and her hands on his shoulders; her legs at his waist.  He had to top the recording and lean over, feeling light-headed and nauseous when he’d heard her frantic pleas.

            Oliver on the screen put Felicity down and grabbed her hair with a quick jerk.  He was surprised to see himself recover, shortly afterward and run to the bathroom.  The mirror camera showed him his physical state of readiness as he splashed water on himself and re-fastened his pants.  Dunking his head, and eventually going back out into the room.  He was a little relieved to see what looked like re-gaining control.  Felicity filled him in on the details of what was happening.  He was off-camera and didn’t see himself again until the little blonde jumped to her feet and backed up.  She literally cowered against the wall while his other self shouted at her, and then threw her on the bed, following her to the other side when she scrambled away. 

Watching Felicity being assaulted was bad enough, knowing his hands had torn her shirt, thrown her down so that her glasses bruised her face, and eventually pulled her to the floor while removing her underwear was agonizing.  He couldn’t see everything that was happening, but Felicity’s comment that he’d made an effort to look realistic seemed true.  Her screams, nevertheless, continued to ring in his ears long after she quieted down and after the apparent collapse resulted in Malcolm Merlyn coming into the room.  He was surprised that it was Felicity, herself who eventually defeated him.  Drugged Oliver was clearly weak and barely holding onto his rational mind. 

When the strike with the glass shard came, Felicity had scrambled over the bed and started for the door, only to turn around, surprised, and pick up the tranquilizer gun from where Merlyn had dropped it.  She shot him with it before half-lifting and helping a staggering Oliver from the room, shutting it behind them.  She’d told him that he’d saved them.  He stopped the recording and closed his eyes, feeling unfamiliar stinging behind his eyelids.  Although he’d lured Malcolm into the room and stabbed him, everything Felicity had done from the moment she woke up was to try to save them. 

Escape hadn’t been possible so she’d attempted to remove Merlyn’s access to them.  She’d restrained Zombie Oliver, she’d tried to talk to him calmly and, despite her continued protests, she hadn’t fought him.  He wondered about that and returned the recording to the moment when they were both at the wall; Felicity held by his drugged self.  There was something about the sudden, frantic crying after he’d told she smelled good.  He’d spoken the words and then dropped his head back, mouth slightly open and muscles tensing up.  He choked back the bile that rose in his throat and watched it again. 

Oliver left the tech room looking pale and barely felt Diggle’s hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, Oliver?”

“I have to talk to her,” he said, hoarsely.  “I need to get some answers.”

~

            “Hi.”  Oliver stood in Felicity’s doorway.  It was late in the evening and he’d taken Diggle’s advice and spent some time thinking before approaching her.  “Can we talk?”

            “Okay.”  Felicity was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt.  Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders.  She opened the door wider so he could walk inside.  He wore just jeans and a long-sleeved jersey.  She fidgeted with her hands before gesturing to the couch.  “Want to sit?”

            “Sure.”  He walked past her, touching her elbow, gently.  She pulled away from him and quickly crossed her arms to cover her reaction.  He reminded himself that he’d have to refrain from reaching for her.  Physical affection for Felicity had become second nature to him long before they’d become intimate.

            “I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said as he sat down.

            “It’s okay,” she replied.  “I was having a drink.  Want one?”

            “If you were already getting one, sure.”  The strange formality seemed foreign but Oliver didn’t feel like he could talk to her casually.  She got them both a glass with ice and brought out a vodka bottle from the freezer. 

            “Cold River,” she said, pouring it over the ice.  “Made in Maine.”

            “Thanks,” he said. 

            “I had wine with dinner but I didn’t want to be a lush and finish the bottle.”  She looked down at her glass.  “I switched to vodka, instead.” As soon as she said it, Oliver saw her clamp her mouth shut and shake her head, slightly.  He wanted to smile then, because she was acting like his Felicity again.

            “Do you usually drink it on the rocks?”

            “No.”  She put the bottle back and sat on her magenta settee.

            “I think my sister had a couch like that,” he said, pointing.  She smiled quickly and took a swallow of her drink before setting it down on a small table beside her.  She’d always had a tough time hiding her emotions.  She was visibly tense now.  She sat up straight with her knees and feet together and her hands resting on her thighs.  “I watched the recording,” he said and watched her close her eyes and turn her face away.  He sipped his own drink, it was smooth. 

            “I wish you hadn’t,” she said, breathing the words out like a sigh. “No one should see it.”  She shook her head.  “I wanted us to work through this as a team.  As partners.”

            “I can do that, Felicity.  I can help you.  I want to help you.”

            “If I had asked you not to watch that video, would you have agreed?”  She opened her eyes and looked at him.  He looked away. 

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

            “Tell you what?”

            “You brushed over it like it was nothing.”  He looked down at his hands and he continued.  “It wasn’t… nothing, Felicity.” 

            “I told you the truth,” she said, looking him in the eye.  “I told you the important things:  you being unaware of what you were doing, getting excited and then backing off when I was afraid.  I know that you deserve to know _exactly_ what went on in that room.  I didn’t withhold the details from you solely out of a misguided protectiveness.”  Her voice was trembling but held a defensive edge.  “I just don’t think I can tell you about it and remain calm.”  Oliver leaned forward, elbows on knees. 

“I was there, I saw what happened, but I still can’t remember anything and I feel like I got out of this whole thing like a spectator.” 

            “You _were_ a spectator,” she said, quietly.  “Malcolm Merlyn planned for _me_ to be violently assaulted.  He didn’t want _you_ to get a scratch.”  She pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “I resent that.”

            “Felicity, you did everything you could to protect me when I was out of my mind.  I-” He stopped and looked down for a moment, trying to find the right words.  “I don’t want to bring anything up to hurt you, and I don’t have the right words, to make you feel better.”  Oliver ached for her. 

            “There are no words,” she said.  “I keep thinking to myself that I shouldn’t be so upset because far worse things happen all over the world, every day.  And sometimes I’m okay; once in a while, I forget about it and get work done.  Sometimes I’m sad, sometimes I’m angry, at Merlyn, at you…”  She finished her glass and looked at the ice.  “Laurel brought me vodka when you died.”  She said, changing the subject.  She saw his look of concern.  “She’s back on the wagon, and I didn’t judge.”  Getting the bottle from the freezer, she poured another helping.  “Turns out vodka makes it easier to be honest.”

            “I usually find the opposite to be true.”

            “Yeah, but you lie, habitually.”  She pressed her lips together and raised her glass.  “Honest, not kind.”

            “I can take it.”  He watched, sadly, as she tried to hold herself together, and joined her at the kitchen counter, across from her.

            “Nothing like that had ever happened to me before,” she said.  She cleared her throat and put her glasses back on.  “Obviously you know that distracting you didn’t work.  You saw it.”

            “The doorway to the bathroom blocked part of the room, I couldn’t see everything.”

            “What do you want to know?” she asked after steeling herself for the question.

            “As much as I want to ask questions, tonight isn’t the night for the third degree.  I’ll keep it to a minimum.”  He poured himself another glass.  “I am willing to listen, though.”

            “I think I was most upset, at first, that we had an audience for something I found so awful.”  She ran her hand through her damp hair.  “One of the most embarrassing moments of my life was when I was in high school.  I got up to leave my class and this jerk who sat behind me shouted out to everyone that I had my period.”  She shuddered at the memory.  I had to wear my gym clothes for the rest of the day and I felt like everyone was staring at me for the rest of the week.”

            “That must have been awful.”

            “The most private, personal detail of my teenage life had just been broadcast to my high school.  That’s how I felt when I thought about Merlyn watching us.  It’s how I feel when I think about all of those agents watching me on a screen.”

            “I don’t think Amanda Waller released it to everyone.  She didn’t even want to let me see it.  This afternoon she suddenly changed her mind.”

            Felicity laughed, bitterly when she heard that, and rested her elbows on the counter in the middle of her kitchen.

            “Of course she did,” she said, sighing.  “That demon bitch,” she finished, mildly.

            “Am I missing something?”

            “Waller came to see me today in order to get my help with information about the Psycho Sex Spray.”  Oliver sat up straight.  “I told her to go to Hell.”

            “Really?”

            “Not in those words, but she got the general idea, even if I didn’t specify which hand basket she should take to get there.”

            “Bold.”

            “Stupid,” she corrected. 

“I can tell her to back off,” he said but she waved his offer away.

“I knew,” Felicity began, after contemplating her ice for a moment, “that, when it did happen, it wouldn’t be like…the other times, between us.  I didn’t know how long he planned to keep us there, I didn’t know how you’d react to me…resisting. I tried to think about how I would deal with it afterward, and I didn’t want to give Merlyn the satisfaction of hearing me scream, or cry, or try to hurt you.”  She sipped her drink again and cleared her throat.  “I was going to be really brave.”  Her features pinched and her lip trembled and tears began to fall.  She sniffled and blew out a slow breath, gathering herself.  “Nothing like that had ever happened to me before.  I had no real idea what to expect, once I knew what _was_ going to happen.”  She contemplated her ice again. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting it to…hurt.”

“Fuck,” Oliver said, under his breath.  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his fist.  “Felicity, I’m so-”

“Stop.” 

Oliver looked at her but she had her eyes closed.  “I’m not giving you this so you can flog yourself with it.  Nothing really happened.”

“But-”

“I’m not going to measure my experience in inches!”  Her voice was steadier, sharper.  “Don’t ask me to tell you how deep, how much, how far.  It doesn’t matter.  It hurt as soon as you started, I went into hysterics when it hurt, and you stopped as soon as I went into hysterics.”

            Oliver sat on one of her chairs and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them and staring at the wall.  He’d been all but certain what had happened but hearing her say it made him ill.  He waited.  It wasn’t the time to interrupt.  She stared at the ice and he knew she was seeing the room.  “You put me down, we were at the wall for only a moment, and you didn’t have time to do anything.”

            “Still, I-”

            “Oliver!” she snapped, slapping her hand down on the counter top. “You had been given surgical anesthetic and a medication they use in conscious sedation.  It was a miracle.”  She leaned over the top of the counter.  “You heard me when I was afraid, and you stopped.  You managed to drag yourself out of a stupor by sheer will-power and go soak your head.  You managed higher brain functions and you formed a plan.  No one could be expected to do what you did.”  She drew her hand back and folded her fingers together.  “I wasn’t a victim.  I was saved.”  Her blue eyes were wide but clear.  “This isn’t denial, Oliver.”

            “After, on the bed,” he began, moving on.

            “Your plan,” she said, quickly, “although letting me in on it before you dragged me to the floor would’ve been nice.”

            “Sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize for that, you don’t even know what you were thinking.  You roughed me up a bit, I was really scared then.  But when we were on the floor, you said two words: ‘Camera and scream’. 

“You did more to save us than I did,” he said.  She seemed to consider this for a moment and eventually nodded. “If I had any idea what Merlyn was going to do I-”

            “Bullshit.”  Felicity didn’t raise her voice.  She didn’t throw anything, she just laid the charges at his feet.  “He thought killing innocent people was going to make the world a better place because he’d be killing criminals too.  Sara Lance was collateral damage for a plot to make your sister a murderer so you’d fight his battle for him.”  She raised one eyebrow.  “Go ahead.  Tell me you had no idea he would do something like this.”  She held up her glass.  “Like I said, honest, not kind.”

            “You’re right,” Oliver said, standing up straight.  “I keep making the same mistakes over and over again.  I played by his rules and lost during the undertaking.  I was noble and protected Merlyn from Nyssa and left him alive to murder Sara, possibly destroy Thea’s life, and brought you right to him.”

            “I am not going to disagree with you about your handling of Malcolm Merlyn.  I’m not going to hound you about it, either unless you start making the same mistake.”  She touched the rim of her glass to his.  “Here’s to recovery.”

            “Should we go to a counselor?”

            “What could we possibly tell them?”

            “Good point.”  He finished his drink and watched while Felicity went to her room and brought out a pillow and blanket.

            “Would you mind staying here?”

            “Of course I’ll stay,” he said, taking the bedding from her.  “Are you sure you want me around?”

            “Yes.”  She continued to stand close to him.  “My moods are a little unpredictable right now, give me a few days, but I do want you around.” She looked like she wanted to say more but just turned and went to her bedroom.  “Goodnight, Oliver.”

            “Goodnight Felicity.”

            Felicity woke, a full week after her imprisonment, to an achy feeling in her back.  She looked at her calendar.  She frowned, thoughtfully; her period was late by nearly a week and a half.  She dropped her hands to her sides and stared up at her blurry ceiling. Oliver hadn’t stayed over the previous night and she debated calling him.  Although she’d had a lot of extra hormones in her body recently, they’d had unprotected sex on her living room floor.  She chewed her lip and eventually sent Caitlin an email, asking her about likely side-effects. 

            Along with the headaches, fatigue, imprisonment and molestation Felicity had received, she was also blaming Merlyn for the additional pimples and flat, oily hair she was getting.  Getting up and checking herself with the black light, she was pleased that only a trace of glow appeared under her arms.  She washed and sprayed herself, carefully before dressing for the office in a neat black pantsuit with a yellow shirt.  She’d asked Ray to report her as down with the flu to explain her absence and prevent surprise visitors.  On her way to the office, she stopped at the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.  They were more sensitive these days than decades ago when one needed to take them first thing in the morning.  Still, she waited until after a lunch meeting, and she was squirming in her seat, to take it.  While she waited, she entertained the idea. 

At twenty-five, Felicity could hardly call herself a teen-mother.  Her current salary was very good and her health insurance had good coverage, but the thought that came to her was the delivery.  Would Oliver be there with her?  Would he want to?  She knew she wasn’t being fair, and that Oliver Queen took his responsibilities seriously. How would she even tell him?  Would it affect his decision to don a mask and fight crime?  Would he allow her to continue doing her part?  It wasn’t like he could stop her, but she’d seen the way Diggle took his parenting seriously.  Would Oliver want to get married?

Felicity glanced at the clock on her phone and checked the test.  It was negative.  She sighed with relief.  She wasn’t prepared for parenthood right now.  She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready, but with the relief came a tiny pang of loneliness.  A small part of her wanted the bond she’d have with a child.  It would have meant a long-term connection to Oliver as well.  Ray had been avoiding her most of the day, which was probably just as well.  Her explanation that she’d had a hormonal imbalance due to some medication, had met with skepticism, but like many of the secrets she openly kept from him regarding her he accepted that.

Caitlin called and told Felicity that she’d likely been thrown off her normal cycle but couldn’t determine, without knowing much about the synthetic compound, when, exactly she could expect her monthly visitor.  She suggested an ovulation predictor, kit, and an investment in panty liners.   When the biologist had gently inquired about how everything else was going, Felicity told her that she was having nightmares if she slept without chemical assistance, but wasn’t jumping at every shadow anymore. 

“We’re uniquely qualified in our respective cities,” Caitlin said, a little sadly, “to take traumatic experiences in stride.”

“Over a good bottle of vodka,” Felicity said, “we’ll have to compare notes on being used as collateral, or considered acceptable collateral damage.”

“Too bad there’s no guide book for vigilante support staffers on burnout rate,” Caitlin sighed.  “We’re not usually in the crosshairs, but we _are_ considered far more disposable.”

“Women behind the Masks.  I mean, nobody ever thinks of taking Dig hostage.”

“Can you blame them?” Caitlin’s voice held a hint of pure female admiration, “Mr. Diggle is _made_ of muscles.”

“I used to get very distracted when they sparred.”

“Shirtless.  They do it shirtless, don’t they?”

“All three, but between the… suit, and Wells’ shirts, you do have a lot of snug fabric.”

“True, it’s like Dr. Wells went from ‘kinda hot professor’ to ‘broody clubber’ in his wardrobe style.  And sure, there’s a bit less nudity here, since Barry woke up, anyway.”

“Oh my,” Felicity chuckled with genuine amusement, “I never thought about who’d do the sponge bathing.”

“Only two doctors and one’s in a wheelchair.”

“If only you weren’t bound by Doctor-patient privilege.”  Felicity let out a low whistle. 

“I did _not_ find it a joyless task.”  The two women, usually serious, broke into very girlish giggles.  “Oh, I’ve got to go.  I’ll take you up on the vodka offer.”  Felicity heard her talking to someone in the background before she hung up.  The phone call, paired with a lot of busy work, proved therapeutic for the computer whiz. 

After leaving the office around seven in the evening, Felicity went to the foundry to catch up on inventory and research into the piracy case they’d worked on before Merlyn had taken over their lives.  Roy was cleaning his bow when she walked down the stairs.  He greeted her with a smile and an affectionate shoulder squeeze.  She got to work taking her inventory list and a pen and checking the medical supplies and armory items.  She unpacked a crate of CO2 cartridges; un-surprisingly, in her absence no one had gotten around to it.

Felicity asked Roy about the piracy problem , she was surprised to learn from the young archer that Captain Lance had gotten a break on the money trail with one of his computer experts and the Arrow and Arsenal had captured the crew on land.  Feeling a little left out, Felicity re-grouped and went looking for more work. 

“We’ve been out-sourcing some of the tougher things to the P.D.” Roy said when she asked him about current cases.  “Oliver said you might not be back for a while.” 

“Why?” she asked.  His glance dropped down and back up for a split second before he shrugged.  For a man with a secret identity, he had a terrible poker face.  She was from Vegas and knew poker faces.  She turned around, picked up her purse and left, telling him to unpack the crate himself if he wanted any of his trick arrows to work. He called after her but she went back up through the club.  It was early for a Thursday evening and the club was mostly filled with staff members who were readying it for the customers.  She pushed past a man carrying a rack of glasses and bounced of a bouncer.  The big man put out a hand to steady her, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm.  She jumped back and pushed him, dropping her purse, spilling her phone, lipstick and wallet on the floor.

“Woah, you okay?” he asked, bending down to help her, his hulking form, blocking the spotlight from the ceiling.  She stood up quickly and he grabbed her wrist.  She tried to jerk away but he held fast.  “Your phone,” he said, holding out her mobile. 

Felicity felt like she was suffocating.  She grabbed it with trembling fingers and bolted for the door.  Reaching the street her high-heeled shoe gave out, tipping her sideways, spilling her onto the sidewalk.  Skinning her hand, she felt tears flowing down her cheeks and stood up, removing her shoes and sprinting for her car.  She tripped once on broken pavement but managed to stay upright.  She could barely see and realized her glasses had fallen off.  Placing her scuffed palm on the hood of her car she bent double, sobbing for breath. 

“Felicity?”

Oliver stood beside her.  He’d made little noise, as usual, he just appeared and he was standing close, too close.  She couldn’t breathe and fumbled for her keys, unable to stop the painful contracting in her chest. 

“N-no,” she gasped before the ground rushed up to meet her.


	8. Panic (attack) at the disco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to return to her routine proves more difficult than expected. Dinner doesn't go well, either.

Oliver caught Felicity before she hit the ground and picked up her purse before hoisting her into his arms. 

“Is she okay?” Matt, one of the bouncers stood in the doorway.  He held her glasses in his hand and opened the door for Oliver. 

“Get Thea,” he said, bringing her to the business office.  Carrying an unconscious woman down to what the employees all believed was a flooded basement, would look more than strange.  He laid her gently on the couch in the office.  He sent the bouncer to get her shoes and examined her foot.  She had a chunk of glass in the ball of her left foot.  He took a few tissues and blotted it gently.  Looking at her face and seeing her eyes still closed, he removed it with a quick jerk, pressing the tissues hard into the cut.  He gripped her ankle and managed to hold it still she started to sit up and tried to scramble backwards.

“Ollie?”

“Grab the first aid kit,” he said, quietly.  He continued to hold Felicity’s ankle until his quiet words broke through the blind panic she was in.  “Felicity, you’re in Thea’s office at the club.  You’re okay.” There was a frightened, animal quality to her face as she looked around her. 

“How did I get here?” she asked.

“You fainted in the alley.”

“When?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember coming upstairs and feeling someone grab my arm.”  She rubbed her scuffed palm with her other thumb.  “I think I dropped my glasses.”

“There’s water in the fridge,” Thea said, walking to her desk and opening the kit.  She turned on a lamp and stood behind Oliver while he looked at the sole of Felicity’s foot.  “I’ll get a dishtowel,” she said and smiled briefly at the blonde.

“Matt, the bouncer has your glasses,” He said, keeping his voice soft.  She nodded but her eyes were still round.  “You cut your foot on some glass, and we’re just going to look at it.”

“Here,” Matt stuck his head in the office, looking nervous.  He set down the glasses and shoes on Thea’s desk and backed away, as if Felicity might explode.  Thea returned with a towel and opened one of the water bottled, pouring cool water onto the towel before handing it to Oliver. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“I think it got stuffy inside,” he replied.  “Felicity just needed a little air.  Can you grab a…kit from the…storage?”  Thea nodded and left.

Watching Oliver gently blot at the bottom of her foot brought pain to the forefront of her mind. 

“Ow,” she said, pulling it back, reflexively. 

“Keep still.”  He pressed the wet cloth to it, and gently squeezed, letting the blood carry out some of the dirt. 

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, staring at her pedicure.  “I was mad and I left and then I just remember being scared.”

“Why were you mad?” he asked, scooting to sit on the couch, holding her foot in his lap.

“Long story,” She said, not looking him in the eye.  He accepted her answer and said nothing until Thea returned.  She closed the office door and stayed to keep others from walking in.  Oliver opened the suture kit and Felicity started to lift her foot.

“I just want to clean it, you might not need stitches.”  Thea took the disposable plastic-backed absorbent sheet on Oliver’s lap when he lifted Felicity’s foot.  She checked the expiration date on the bottle of lidocaine and opened an alcohol prep pad.  She popped the top off the bottle, revealing the rubber seal in place.  She wiped the top and held it, top down.  She grasped her wrist to steady her other hand while Oliver opened a sterile syringe and needle.  He inserted the needle into the bottle and drew up the contents of the small bottle.  He got up, briefly, allowing Felicity’s foot to bleed freely while he used some hand sanitizer gel from Thea’s purse to clean his hands. 

Oliver used one of the orange sterile soap sponges on the skin surrounding the gash.  He made several injections of lidocaine around the ragged edges of the wound.  Felicity squeezed Thea’s hand when she offered.  The injections burned briefly before the pain retreated to inside the cut.  “Sorry,” he said, sliding the needle into the wound and making the last two injections.  Felicity felt nauseated but managed to keep herself still.  He waited for the medication to spread while he took out the sterile tools.  He washed the entire wound area with another orange sponge and Felicity felt nothing until the trickle of sterile liquid and blood dripped below the wound. 

“Sutures?” she asked. 

“The hard part’s over,” he said with a smile, gesturing to the lidocaine.  He stitched quickly and neatly, wrapping the thread twice around the needle driver before pulling it tight over the previous stitch. 

“How’re you doing?” Thea asked. 

“How do I look?”

“Pale.”  Oliver looked at her face and nodded his agreement. 

While he worked, Felicity thought about being in the basement with Roy and why she’d gotten angry.  She’d had a bad fall when she was young and she’d noticed how eyes were drawn to the bruise on her forehead and the cast on her arm.  Over and over they looked at where she was damaged.  When she’d asked Roy why Oliver had thought she wouldn’t be working with them he’d looked hesitant, and then his eyes had darted downward.  He’d looked at where she was damaged.  All he, or anyone else who knew, could think about when they saw her was the assault.  She wondered if they pictured it in their heads; and if so, what they saw. 

There were lots of TV movies about it.  It happened in soap operas all the time.  In her women’s studies class, a discussion had become heated about the subject of romanticizing rapists on daytime dramas.  Each show had its popular rapist, and some didn’t become popular until they actually committed the crime.  She’d written a paper about it entitled _The Luke and Laura Phenomenon_.  It had been very condemning with lots of sociology and psychology references.  Women who watched soap operas from the seventies through the nineties were mostly stay-at-home mothers and housewives.  According to her paper, these women, raised with traditional gender roles and Christian values felt so much guilt about fantasizing that they preferred to watch the object of their fantasy _force_ a woman to have sex.  Then, said woman with whom they identified, could have the dashing, dangerous man without guilt because she hadn’t said ‘yes’.

There was always dimmed lighting and shadows on the soap operas and Lifetime Original Movies; there was always the confrontation where the man professes his feelings (frequently love).  He tells her how much he wants her while she gets increasingly nervous and slowly backs away.  She’s often dressed in a skirt for everyone’s convenience.  She denies feelings for him and tries to placate him with words before he drops his chin towards his chest, raises an evil eyebrow and throws her down onto the bed, couch, dance floor, or ground.  Eventually the aftermath would show to emotionally devastated and frightened woman and the attacker who sometimes apologizes to his wife, girlfriend, object of obsession for losing control. 

The inevitable frantic shower, unkempt, hair, baggy clothes and cowed demeanor followed for the woman.  Felicity had scored an ‘A’ on the paper by putting as much disdain for the women who popularized a crime, into her paper as possible.  It wasn’t fair.  When it was Felicity’s turn to be the victim, she hadn’t been allowed the chance to fight her attacker.  She couldn’t strike out at him, or scratch his face.  She wasn’t even in the same room as her attacker.  Malcolm Merlyn had been the one; oh yes, but he’d tried to use Oliver’s dick to rape by proxy.  His failure didn’t make her less angry. 

Felicity wanted to laugh at the situation she was in.  Her lover had gently kissed and caressed her, against both of their wills, and it was his face she saw when she had nightmares.  Oliver had finished with her sutures and was staring at her.

“What?” she asked, picking up her foot and swinging her legs around.  He’d bandaged it with gauze so it looked neat and tidy. 

“Why were you mad?” he asked.  She wanted to tell him she didn’t know, but his eyes were so earnest she didn’t have the energy to be convincing.

“I’m a little over-sensitive these days.”

            “Let me take you home.”  Oliver stood in front of Felicity, holding out his hand, and she stood, with his assistance.

            “You don’t have to do that.”

            “I came here, looking for you,” he said.  She stood close to him and didn’t pull her hand away.  “I wanted to know how your first day back to the office went.”

            “It was okay,” she replied as she started to put her shoe back on.

            “You might not want to do that,” he cautioned. 

            “Seems like I should get home before the numbness wears off,” she replied, standing on her good foot and gingerly sliding her toes into the other shoe.  Oliver steadied her with a hand at her waist. 

            “Let me drive you,” he urged, again.

            “I’ll accept your help out to my car, but I can handle the drive.  I promise to elevate, ice, and stay off it.”

            Oliver assisted her to the door and outside.  Felicity couldn’t feel much in the injured area of her foot, but she walked carefully, putting as little weight on it as possible to avoid disturbing the stitches.  She drove, barefoot, back to her apartment and was unsurprised that Oliver had taken a shortcut and was waiting for her. 

            “Can you just _not_ argue with me about this?” he said, scooping her up into his arms when she hopped from the car to the curb.  Felicity put her arms around his neck and held on while he walked to her door.  He stood still while she took out her keys, unlocked the door and turned the knob.  She had to hold it in the ‘turned’ position and wait for him to move forward in order to open the door.  He kicked the door shut and looked at her.  “Where too?”  His face was an inch from hers and his gaze dropped to her mouth, briefly before moving back to her eyes. 

            “Bathroom,” she said.  “I think I’ll take a bath.”

            “Need help?” he asked, and immediately tried to correct himself.  “I mean, do you need me to get you anything, not bathe you.”

            “I’m usually the one who slips up,” she said, smiling.  He was close and he smelled so good.  Without thinking, she tilted her chin and pressed her lips to his.  He started to pull back and she turned her head away.  “Sorry.”

            “Don’t be, I was just surprised.”

            “Me too.”  When he reached the bathroom, he set her down on the edge of her bath tub. 

            “Hang on, I’ll get you a towel.”  He was back quickly and brought her towel and her bathrobe.  “Have you eaten?”

            “No, I think I have leftovers in the fridge.”

            “I’ll make you something while you clean up, so take your time.”  He turned in the doorway, “Holler if you need me.”

            She turned on the water and waited while the tub filled. 

“Felicity?” She heard Oliver’s voice at the door.

            “Yeah?”

            “You’re out of…drinkable milk, I’m just going to run to the store.”

            “Thanks.”

Felicity used a washcloth to scrub the orange sterile soap from the bottom of her foot, giving her injury a wide berth.  Sensation had started to come back in the car and she checked under the bandage.  The stitches looked neat and intact.  After undressing, she managed to get herself into the bathtub and scrubbed at her skin.  She thought about the kiss.  Oliver was one of the people she cared most about and kissing him had seemed natural, but maybe she wasn’t supposed to feel okay with him.  She certainly had nightmares in which he was prominently featured.  She shook away the thought that there were rules about how she should feel.

            After soaking for a while, Felicity scooted up onto the edge of the tub and dried herself off with the towel.  She could hear noise coming from the kitchen and hobbled, putting her weight on her heel, out to check on his progress.  Oliver looked up when she came around the corner.  He smiled and pointed to a chair at the island. 

            “Smells good,” she said.

            “I grabbed a couple of chicken breasts so you can have leftovers.”

            “Or you could join me,” she said.  He paused and looked up.  “So I won’t feel like a lush when I open some wine.”

            “Yeah, okay,” he said.  “If that’s what you want.”

            “I want you,” she said nodding, and then added, “-to join me.”

            Oliver smiled at Felicity’s slip, and too out a bottle of white wine from her refrigerator.  He opened it and poured them each a glass.  She popped a few aspirin to combat the pain she was starting to feel in her foot.  He served them each a chicken breast and wrapped the third, placing it in the refrigerator.  He served up Caesar salad and sliced pears.  They sipped their wine, chatting a little about her work and ash asked him to tell her about the piracy.

            Oliver started his story about how the Starling City P.D. computer whiz had found the ring leader.  Felicity cleared her throat, loudly.

            “What?” he asked.

            “Nothing,” she said, coughing.  I just had to clear my throat.  He continued, punctuated by the occasional cough and had neared the part of the story that involved arrows when Felicity slapped her hand down on the counter.  Oliver looked at her, closely and turned on the kitchen light.  Her lips were swollen and her face was red.  “Did you use my Caesar salad dressing?” she wheezed.

            “It was moldy, I just picked up…” he trailed off when he saw her struggling for breath.  “Oh, God.  Nut allergy.” He’d forgotten she was allergic to nuts.  “Where’s your epi pen?”

            She pointed to the bathroom and he ran in, looking through her medicine cabinet.  He found it and returned to the kitchen.  She was on the floor, on hands and knees, gasping.  Oliver took it out of the package and pulled the bottom of her bathrobe up and pressed it to her thigh.  The auto injector made a snapping sound and she winced.  He waited until it had finished and cupped her face, watching her.  Her breathing lost the wheezing sound in less than a minute and she began looking normal shortly after that.  He picked her up and carried her to the couch. 

            “I’m okay,” she said, sitting up.

            “I’m not,” he said, aggravated.  “I damned near killed you and then had a heart attack.”  He ran a hand over his short hair.  “I can’t seem to avoid hurting you.”  He looked genuinely distressed and Felicity wanted to reach out to him.  “I should just go.”

            “Wait!” she said, swinging her legs around and standing up, quickly.  She let out a little noise when she put weight on her recently stitched foot.  Oliver reached for her arm to steady her and she gripped his hand.  “Oliver, I really need you to stay.” She blurted it out quickly and saw the confusion and pain etched in the strong lines of his profile when he turned away.  “I need you.”  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  “We need each other.”

            “I’m sorry,” he said, turning and leaving through the front door.  Felicity hobbled back to the kitchen and threw away the remains of her dinner.  She ordered another auto-injector from her pharmacy’s prescription refill line, washed the dishes carefully, while wearing gloves, and took her wine glass back to the living room.  In spite of her hunger, she didn’t make herself anything else and decided to finish the bottle of wine.  She hadn’t needed an epinephrine injection in a long time, it gave her a jittery, nervous feeling.

            After finishing the bottle, and two servings of vodka on the rocks, Felicity drifted off on her couch.  Around two in the morning, she felt a hand shake her gently awake.  The kitchen light was still on and she’d fallen asleep while wearing her glasses.  She looked up at Oliver who leaned over her. 

            “Come on,” he said, lifting her into his arms.  He brought her to the bathroom and steadied her while she brushed her teeth.  He brought her to her bed and left, returning with a glass of water.  He waited while she drank it and then patiently brought her back to the bathroom to use the facilities.  He got her pajamas and turned around while she changed.

            “You’ve seen me naked,” she said, glumly.  “I haven’t changed since then.” 

            “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

            “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with me, either.”  Felicity shuffled around and managed to get herself under her blankets.  “Oliver, there are some things I’m trying to work out,” she said.  Her head ached already, despite the water he’d given her.  “You’re the only person around here who has any idea how awful I feel.”

            “You?”  He turned around and looked at her.  “Why do _you_ feel awful?”  He sat on the edge of her bed.  “You did everything possible to stop Merlyn.  And me.”

            “That’s just it, Oliver, I didn’t fight or really try to get away until things almost went too far.”

            “Almost?” he said softly.  “It didn’t seem ‘Almost’ to me.”

            “We could go into legal definitions, state-by-state, and then the federal level.  But I’m going with my perception of events.  I’m not a victim.  Merlyn tried, by using your body, but he failed because you heard me, you listened, you...cared.  _Your_ subconscious mind didn’t want to hurt me, no matter what your body was feeling.”  She took off her glasses and set them down on the table beside her bed.    

            “So why the sudden interest in vodka?”

            “Do you still dream about the fall?”  He felt the weight of her question.  “You were saved from dying.  Do you still dream about coming close?”

            “I don’t think I was saved,” he said, quietly.  “When I dream, I remember the blackness after the fall.  I remember the ending of my suffering and making a decision to return to the noise and pain.  I remember hearing a voice and pulling myself towards it.  It seemed to go on for so long but I opened my eyes and it felt strange to have a body.  Especially one as battered as mine.”

            “A voice?”

            “You.  I heard your voice in my head and I came back.  I don’t know if it was a coma from the cold, or shock, or something else.  I didn’t feel like myself right away,” he said, leaning forward and placing a hand on her blanket-covered knee.  “I felt like all of me hadn’t come back, I didn’t feel as human as I had before.”

            “You didn’t feel human?”

            “I couldn’t figure out if I felt differently or if I just didn’t remember what being alive was before the fall.”  He held her gaze, steadily now.  “Not until the night we spent together.”  He watched her expression, eventually the side of her mouth quirked.

            “Kinda makes ‘You complete me’ sound a bit light.”

            Oliver laughed softly and Felicity did too. 

            “You’re right,” he said, running a hand over her hair.  “We do need each other.”

            “Staying celibate just means Merlyn wins,” she said, flippantly.  She saw his eyes snap back to hers.  “I wasn’t implying that I was planning anything tonight,” she added.  “You’re virtue is safe, at least until my body sorts itself out and goes back to its normally scheduled events.”  He looked a little distressed so she reassured him.  “I’m not pregnant, I’m just being cautious.  I do want to work my way back to being Felicity the computer genius, and not ‘That girl who was attacked’.”

            “I’m sorry if I treated you that way.”

            “I can’t tell you how you should feel about your experience either, Oliver.”  She placed her hand on top of his.  “And I’m not going to label anything that happened to you.  And just because we were…involved before all of this, doesn’t mean you have to pick up where we left off.  I don’t mean to assume that you’ll just be hanging around waiting for me-”

            Oliver cut off her words by leaning forward and kissing her.  His mouth was warm and soft.  He applied only a little pressure but Felicity felt the shiver start from her lips and move throughout her whole body.  When he pulled back, he looked at her and smiled.

            “No matter what else I’m doing, I’m always waiting for you to reach out.”  He kissed her forehead and picked up the blanket from the edge of her bed.  “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”


	9. Tahitian treasure

The week following her nut allergy attack, Felicity sat at her console in the foundry.  She had the place to herself by design.  It was the middle of the night and she’d insisted the boys take the night off.  She’d told them she would need to upgrade the system so their tech support would be unavailable.  Her raiding routine was leaving work a little early, taking a long nap and waking to get started at seven in the evening.  She used a remote access point in Switzerland to enter the bank’s mainframe.  She had spent the last few weeks compiling data on Merlyn’s accounts.  She’d found several offshore accounts holding several million apiece.  Other than monthly account balances, none had been accessed in months.  She went after those first. 

            Felicity directed the majority of the funds directly into a single account from which she directed them to multiple destinations.  She preferred to send the money in smaller, benign-looking transactions to keep it from raising suspicion.  She’d found charities in sixteen states that benefitted women and children in crisis that she could access by computer.  The trick, she’d discovered, to making charitable contributions look normal was to follow the patterns that usually preceded an influx of donations.  Public awareness campaigns, fund-raisers, holidays and media coverage.

Felicity had three separate accounts from which she would disperse millions of dollars.  The web of dummy accounts had taken her nearly a week to set up under different names.  The three larger ones would automatically send their balances to accounts in all fifty states in random, smaller transactions.  Those accounts would remain active until they needed to be used to make charitable donations within that state.  There were a few things she couldn’t do, like go in person to empty the safe deposit boxes she’d discovered in Delaware.  She’d emptied all off-shore accounts before starting on the domestic ones under aliases.  She’d set up one account in Switzerland for Arrow-related expenses…like arrows, she paid vendors for their specialized equipment from this account.

            It was after four in the morning when Felicity finished covering her tracks.  She would continue, on the next quiet night, to find and empty _all_ of his remaining coffers.  She drove home, took a three-hour nap and drank a large cup of coffee.  She called Barry Allen and made arrangements to meet him for dinner over the weekend.  She wanted a chance to talk to him about the last few weeks.

            Oliver and Diggle sat down, sweaty and winded from sparring.  After emptying a water bottle each, Diggle asked about Felicity.

            “She seems to be okay most of the time.  The anxiety sneaks up on her sometimes.” He shrugged, “I think she had a panic attack the other night, but she does seem to be getting better.”

            “It’s important that she _wants_ to get better,” the older man said.  “I’ve seen people who went through some heavy stuff; they try to push their emotions away and pretend nothing happened, they’re afraid to deal with it.  It’s like, if they try to get better, it means admitting that they’re not okay.”

            “I told you what happened in her bedroom.”

            “The night you had Barry take blood samples?” he asked.  Oliver nodded. 

“Right.”  He rubbed his face and looked at the plastic bottle in his hand.

            “What is it?” Diggle asked, prodding gently.

            “She was so afraid and she said ‘Let me go, Oliver. You need to let me go, now.’ I saw how scared she was, then.”

            “She knows it wasn’t your fault,” Diggle said.

            “When we were being held by Merlyn, and I was…holding her against the wall, she said the same thing.  I think that’s what made me see her.”

            “The same words?”

            “The _exact_ same words. 

            “It worked, that’s what’s important.”

            “I just think about…what if she said something else? What if she’d tried to fight me?  Would I have even been aware of what she was saying?”

            “I think so,” Diggle said.  “I think her fear made you pay attention in her bedroom.  Your instincts were driving you then, and it’s not your nature to hurt her.  That’s what you responded to in captivity as well.”

            “I wish I could remember what happened.”

            “Why?”

            “I want to believe, like Felicity does, that I was pretty far gone.”  He pressed his lips together, brows knit with tension.

            “What’s this really about?”  Diggle stood and clasped Oliver’s shoulder.  “Something’s on your mind, just tell me.  I’m not going to judge you.”

            “I feel like she shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” he let out a long breath with his admission.  He caught Diggle’s expression out of the corner of his eye.  “She’s letting me off too easily.”

            “Not very original, Oliver.”

            “What?” He looked at his big friend. 

            “You wouldn’t let yourself be with Felicity, but not because you’re distracted by her, Hell, _I’m_ distracted by some of her dresses.”

            “Not funny.”

            “With Laurel, you’d always feel guilty and you pursued that guilt with her.  No wonder she’s pissed at you all the time.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “There’s no guilt with Felicity, no inner turmoil, and no pain.  If you hadn’t backed off before, you’d have no excuse _not_ to be happy, and you can’t stand that idea.”

            “I don’t want to be miserable.”

            “Your father made the ultimate sacrifice for a worthless son.”  He looked Oliver in the eye when he said it.  “You didn’t deserve to live when he died.  Now you seek out suffering because you can’t make yourself believe it was worth it.”

            “You really know how to cheer a guy up.”

            “I’m only saying what you’ve been shouting since you got back.”

            “I don’t deserve forgiveness,” he said, looking away.

            “You do.”

            “I hurt her in that room, I hurt her before that, too.” He snapped.  “She’s got no business forgiving someone who-” He pressed his trembling lips together and turned away.  Diggle’s large hand landed on his shoulder.

            “Someone who, what?”

            “Someone who enjoyed it!”  He turned and faced his friend.  “I started sleeping with Felicity the night she got trapped at the warehouse,” he said, pacing back and forth.  “I wanted her every second after that.  Even when I was angry and jealous,” he said, wiping his grimy hand across his mouth, feeling the grit of dust and metal against his lips. “I wanted her so much, even when she was pushing me away.”

            “That wasn’t you.”

            “I was enjoying it when we were locked in together,” he said, softly.  “I could see it in the video,” he buried his face in his hands for a moment.  “I was enjoying it when I-she told me she didn’t try to fight me until…until it started to hurt.”  He choked on his words.  “She shouldn’t forgive me.”

            “You were responding to the hormone when you were in her bedroom, and you were sedated and exposed to a bigger dose while locked in with her.” 

            “That’s what Felicity said,” he shook his head. 

            “Do you resent her for forgiving you?” Diggle asked, incredulous.  “Man, she needs you right now.”  He gave Oliver’s head a smart smack.  “You’ve got no business trying to tell her how to feel about what happened.”  He gave his friend a rough shake.  “You were a victim too, Oliver, let her help you.”

            “I brought Merlyn in and let him get close to her.”

            “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”  Diggle forced Oliver to look him in the eye. “I never thought I’d have to say this to you, but regardless of your agreement to work with Merlyn and try to train with him, you didn’t deserve what happened.”  Oliver looked away, slightly. “I hate to sound like an after school special, but you weren’t asking for it.”

            “Maybe if I didn’t take my shirt off-”  Diggle’s big hand went in for another smack but he ducked. 

            “Okay, melodramatic it might be, but the sentiment is the same.”

            “How do I move forward from this?”

            “Let her forgive you, and forgive yourself.”  He gave him a scornful look.  “You make a really whiney martyr.”  Diggle leaned back against one of the steel tables.

            “Thanks.”

            “You love her, so find your happy place and live there.”

            “Is that your idea of deep wisdom?”

            “There’s this spot on Lyla’s neck,” he said, letting one corner of his mouth lift in amusement, “just where it starts to curve into her shoulder.”  He licked his lips and nodded to himself.  “If I had to pick a single spot on the planet where I’d have to live for the rest of my life, it would be there.”

            “Not a little farther down?” Oliver and Diggle shared a laugh that was purely male. 

            “I love holding her and resting my chin there.  Or my lips,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.  “Think of a place, somewhere that makes you feel uncomplicated.”

            “Her hair,” Oliver said, looking at nothing. 

            “Felicity’s?”

            “No, Lyla’s.”

            “Hey!”

            “Kidding!”  He held his hands up in surrender.  “My hands are callused, rough, usually dirty and pretty cold.”  He glanced at his palms, studying them for a moment.  “When I had my hands in her hair, I was happy.”  He looked up at his friend who waited, patiently.  “We were arguing a lot when I came back.”

            “Really?” Diggle said, sarcastically. 

            “When we weren’t arguing, she barely smiled at me, she just seemed like she was _done_ with me.”  He crossed his arms over his bare chest.  “I went to her apartment, the lights were off and, being the healthy, well-adjusted, man I am, I picked the locks and stood in her bedroom.”

            “Glad I didn’t know that before now.”

            “At first I just wanted to make sure she was okay.  I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and start another fight, but one of those men had smacked her and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”  He closed his eyes.  “She woke up, and naturally I started scolding her and she told me to go take a piss.”

            “Really?”

            “More or less, yeah.”  He smiled to himself.  “I told her how I felt, bluntly.”

            “How did that go over?”

            “Like a pregnant pole-vaulter.”  They both chuckled.  “I think I said something to the effect of wanting to either give her a spanking, or bend her over a handy piece of furniture and get her out of my system.

            “Very eloquent.”

            “She gave me her side of events; I’d been picking fights with her in order to see some kind of emotional response, and when I told her I hated thinking about her when I couldn’t have her, she got out of bed and held me.”

            “Hmm.”

            “She was completely disagreeing with my choices, but acknowledging how tough it was for me to live with those decisions.”  He closed his eyes and inhaled, gently.  “She seemed so small; barefoot, wearing her pajamas, and she tucked her head under my chin.  She was soft and warm from sleeping, and my fingers were stiff and cold from riding over.  I just remember that moment, I had my hands in her hair and her warmth chased away the cold.”  He looked at his hands again.  “She asked me to stay.”  He scratched his chin, thoughtfully.  “She told me she’d been feeling the same way.  It just made everything seem okay.”

            “That’s your happy place.”

            “The feeling of my hands in her hair, when she’d reached out to comfort me, I’d live in that moment.”

            “Keep that moment, and that place, in your mind.”

            “My happy place,” he said, with a reluctant smile.  “I never thought I’d have one of those again.”

            “Oliver,” Diggle said, calling his attention.  Oliver looked up at his friend.  “The fuck you still doing here, Man?”

            Oliver took the hint and grabbed his shirt, heading for the secret exit.  He got on his bike with almost a smile.

            Felicity wrapped herself in her fluffy robe and poured herself a glass of red wine.  It would make her cheeks as red as cherries but it was better than the vodka she’d been drinking too much of lately.  She’d rubbed her hair mostly dry but hadn’t bothered to comb it.  Sometimes she liked the ‘Jungle Jane’ look.  She picked up her phone, preparing to plug it in.  She heard her doorbell and took a quick sip of her wine before walking to the door.  She noticed several missed calls and texts.  The calls were from Lyla Michaels and another, unknown number.  The text was from the unknown number.  She opened her door as she read the message. 

            _Merlyn escaped._  The text was wholly unnecessary since Malcolm Merlyn stood on her doorstep.  Felicity’s mind worked far faster than the rest of her.  Her thoughts were on escape and the safety of her bedroom and her closed door.  It occurred to her, as her feet started to move backwards and her hand tried to slam the door, that bedroom doors rarely had locks strong enough to keep assassins out.  The door and her feet had barely moved a few inches before he was over her threshold. 

            “Uh-” Felicity managed the one syllable before the broad hand covered her mouth.  Malcolm Merlyn went from standing completely still to full speed in a blink.  His momentum lifted her off her feet; she dropped her phone and clutched his shoulders.  He had an arm around her waist, pulling her close.  Her feet went around his leg, and she was reminded of when she was small and had been getting her hug and kiss from her mother before she went to work.  Knowing she’d be gone until morning, five-year-old Felicity would wrap her skinny arms around her mother’s neck when she’d picked her up.  Her bony feet and legs would wrap, squid-like, around her mother’s leg; clinging pitifully to the closeness she would miss when her mother’s friend would put her to bed.  Her mother, in four-inch-heels, would stand as steady as marble, holding a little girl who was too big to be picked up. 

Merlyn took the weight of a grown woman as if it were nothing.  He moved into the apartment and kicked the door shut behind him.  His blue eyes stayed on hers and she saw nothing else except the damp strands of her hair flying into her face.  Then her back hit the wall and her head bounced off it making her cry out into his palm.  He pressed his middle and third fingers into her mouth, pushing her lips back, painfully against her teeth.  She tasted salt, dusty grit and the rough calluses on his fingers.

            Felicity desperately wanted her mother to hold her.  The fleeting thought was replaced by a survival instinct.  She tried to bite down, but her own lips were between her teeth and Malcolm Merlyn’s fingers.  Tears blurred her vision and ran, hotly down her cheeks.  He held her, suspended off the floor, pressing his body against hers.  They stared at each other; Merlyn slowly removed his hand from her mouth.  His other hand remained at her waist and his face was barely an inch away.

~

            Felicity took small, shallow breaths, she was afraid to breathe on Malcolm Merlyn.  His bright blue eyes were wide but calm, and regarded her with a fascinated curiosity.  He wore hospital scrubs and she wondered if he’d killed someone to get them.  Her mind spun through the different things she could say right now.  She knew that ARGUS would be sending people to re-capture him, and she hoped they’d think to look for him at her apartment.  She decided to stick with questions.

            “Why give Oliver Versed?” she asked in a whisper.  “You said you wanted him to know what he was capable of, but he didn’t remember any of it.”

            “I had a backup plan in case he didn’t…perform, with all the sedatives.”  He gave her a small smile.  “But he did just fine.”  Felicity realized he believed Oliver’s act, after coming to his senses, had been real.  She eased her arms between them, flattening her palms against his chest.  His gaze moved down to her mouth and then to the open front of her robe.  She swallowed and tried to shrink back into the wall.  She was only wearing a pair of cotton panties under her robe.  His eyes returned to hers and the smile stayed on her face.

            “You were the backup plan,” she said, quietly.  “I would’ve told Oliver it was you.”

            “I had a little Versed for you too.”  Felicity understood now.  If Oliver hadn’t appeared to attack her, Merlyn would’ve given her the same drug cocktail, and probably assaulted her while she was unconscious.  They would have both come to the conclusion that Oliver had done it.  The tranquilizer in the gun he’d dropped, the one she’d shot him with, must have contained Versed.  It had caused retrograde amnesia so he didn't remember what had happened in the few minutes leading up to being drugged.  She looked at the side of his neck where a thick bandage was taped over the spot where he’d been stabbed.

            “How’s your neck feeling?”  She watched him carefully.

            “Oliver warned me that you have a history of stabbing people, I should’ve listened.”  He was watching her as well.  He was guessing that she’d stabbed him and was gauging her reaction. 

            “Yes,” she said.  He lowered her feet to the floor, but kept her back to the wall.  He ran his hand down her neck and pulled her bathrobe with it, baring her shoulder.  His gaze was emotionless and closed.  He caressed her robotically, as if following a script for ‘Creepy rapist’.  When she continued to stare at him he pushed a hand inside her robe and groped her breast.  She recoiled, whacking her head on the wall again.  Pleased with her response, he gripped her jaw and kissed her mouth.

            Felicity brought her knee up, sharply.  She missed the mark, of course, Merlyn was an assassin and she’d only got the drop on him in the room with Oliver because he’d been injured.  He jerked her away from the wall and flung her onto the floor.  She landed hard and the edge of her glasses hit the floor, jamming into the side of her nose, causing her to reflexively curl up, guarding her face.  Her eyes watered automatically.  She mused that she would have a black eye on the other side of her face, now.  Rough hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her bathrobe off her back.  The places where the fluffy fabric caught on her arms burned as the terrycloth was pulled tight and sawed at her flesh.  She rolled away from him, covering her chest with one arm and freeing herself from the garment. 

            Merlyn grabbed the back of Felicity’s knees as she tried to get up, she fell forward and kicked out, savagely, striking his shoulder.  He wrapped a hand around her ankle and jerked her back, skinning her knee on the floor.  He flipped her onto her back and straddled her waist.  He pinned her hands by her head and she burned with shame at her breasts being exposed to him.  Her limbs trembled with fear and she looked at his face.  His expression was one of grim satisfaction and annoyance.  He was not, to her surprise, sexually aroused. 

            “Poor Felicity,” he hissed. "Worked so hard to get his love, and where did it get you?"

            “Let go,” she said, choking on her tears.  She shook her head from side to side and he held both wrists with one hand and gripped her chin, leaning down until she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“He’s always so protective, of helpless Felicity,” Malcolm said, pressing a kiss to her captive lips.  He moved his hand from her face, and over her chest, cupping her bare breast.  Felicity fought the urge to twist away.  She waited while Merlyn continued his speech, his face was flushed and he trembled with anger.  His mask finally slipped away. “You love him so much, and you did everything he asked.  But he still got excited when you were saying ‘no’.”  He smiled while he taunted her. “He still got it up for you, he still made a mess inside you, and now you can’t look him in the eye.”  His words revealed a greedy gleam in his blue eyes.

“You’re wrong,” she said, feeling tears drip out the corners of her eyes and run over her temples and into her hair.  She closed her eyes then and sniffled.  She could handle this, if only because she _had_ to.  It wasn’t the end of the world, and she could always gouge his eyes out later.  Not the end of the world.  Malcolm Merlyn wasn’t the first man on the planet to try to use his sexuality to dominate.  He wouldn’t be the last one either.  She couldn’t control what he did, but she could choose how she reacted. 

            “What are you thinking this will accomplish?” she asked.  “What’s in it for you?”  Merlyn’s hair fell over his face, giving him a youthful look.  “I think I deserve some answers.”  She clenched her teeth to keep her lips from trembling.  “Why come after me now?”  She watched his expression, he had his poker face.

            “Maybe I like the view,” he said, quietly.  His eyes moved over her bare torso.  Felicity had a front row view of his pants.

            “That’s not it,” she said, shaking her head.  “I think you want the company.”

            “Your company is riveting at the moment.”  His voice was smooth and slippery again. 

            “I mean you want someone to join you in misery,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.  He said nothing so she continued, trying to buy herself time.  “Oliver is everything you wish you could be, he suffered a loss, just like you, but he fought every step of the way.  He drove towards what he is now with purpose.  You handed your soul off to the first person who could turn you into a killer.”  She shook her head, looking at each of his features in turn, his eyes, his cleft chin, his floppy hair and pretty bone structure.  “You can’t be like Oliver, so you want him to be like you.  You want _him_ to hurt the people he cares for, scare them off so he'll be alone and you’ll have…what?  A drinking buddy?”

            “Get off her, Merlyn.”  Oliver stood in the doorway of her bedroom, his arrow was pointed at Merlyn’s throat. 

            “Took your fucking time!” Felicity’s voice was hoarse and high-pitched with near-hysteria.

            “I’m not playing games with you, Merlyn.”

            “You can’t control the bad things that happen to the ones you love.  You couldn’t even stop _yourself_ from doing it.”

            “He doesn’t remember going into the room,” she said.  “He had Versed in the tranquilizer.”  She gripped his wrists as he looked down at her.  She didn’t gloat, she was still underneath him and he could still probably kill her before Oliver’s arrow killed him.

            Oliver shook his head, whatever Merlyn was thinking, he wouldn’t give him a chance.  He fired and Merlyn wasn’t fast enough to catch it.  He groaned and slumped sideways.  Fired from close range, the arrow carried a lot of power, even with a heavier, injection tip, and knocked him over.  She rolled out from under him and reached for Oliver who was on his knees beside her.  He reached behind them and grabbed the blanket he’d been using from the couch.  He wrapped it around her shoulders and held her while she cried and stammered her way through the events that happened before he’d arrived.  She gripped his face between her hands and kissed his lips, his cheek and the side of his neck before squeezing him tightly.

            “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

            “Should we call ARGUS?” she asked, hiccupping.

            “Yeah.”

            Felicity’s ears were ringing and her legs felt rubbery as she stood.  When she started to fall, Oliver caught her and lifted her into his arms.  He carried her to her bedroom and shut the door.  She hadn’t fainted, she was just in shock.  He was proud of her for keeping her head until after the danger was gone. He grabbed a tank top from the end f her bed and helped her put it on.  He made the call and secured Merlyn with several zip ties.  The Cavalry was there in minutes, he guessed they’d either known where he might go, or had covered all likely places.  They took their prisoner away and Oliver shut the door in Amanda Waller’s face before she could speak.

            Felicity’s chest was contracting, painfully.  Her breath came in ragged squeaks and hums; she had so many thoughts all at once she couldn’t focus on one single thread that she could follow.  Brain lock was what her mother had called it.  It happened to her mother weekly, but Felicity had usually powered through the curtain of falling data and bumped around the bloated, useless info to get what she needed.  Her mind was constantly cluttered like a teenage bedroom.  But like most teens, she’d learned to navigate the mess to keep the clutter as part of the room.  She pulled out what she needed and left the rest lying around. The clutter overwhelmed her at the moment.

            “He’s gone,” Oliver said, feeling impotent as she continued to tremble and make small animal noises.  “You’re safe.”

            “Until-” she began, coughing and trying to breathe in long enough to form sentences.  She wondered if she should get a paper bag.  “-until the next time he gets out.”  She drew in a big breath and held it until the quaking in her chest slowed.  She stood up and put on her pajama bottoms.  “Do you have a gun?” she asked.  “I mean a real one, with bullets?  A little something I can keep under my pillow?”

            “Not with me,” he said.  She sat back down next to him and he gently touched a reddish mark on the side of her nose with a dark center.  She’d have a nasty bruise.  “Do you want to be alone?”

            “Definitely not.”  Oliver went out to his bike and grabbed his duffel, then he returned and stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, slipping under the covers with Felicity.  He held her until her breathing slowed and the tension left her body.  He slept a few hours before waking slipping out of bed and quietly making his way to the bathroom.  He turned on the shower, leaving the bathroom door cracked open so he could listen for her.  He hadn’t showered before leaving the foundry after working out with Diggle.

            Oliver rolled his neck and let the hot water pound his face and chest.  He was pleased that she used body wash that smelled like soap.  The idea of having to return to bed smelling like cherry blossoms, or jasmine didn’t appeal. He lathered up and was busily scrubbing away the gritty feeling of the foundry when he heard the door swing wide.

            “Hey,” Felicity said on the other side of the opaque, yellow curtain.

            “Hey yourself,” he replied.  “I’ll get out if you-”

            “Nope,” she said and stepped into the shower with him. 

            Oliver sucked in his breath at the sight that greeted him.  Felicity reached past him and picked up the shampoo. 

            “I uh- you’re really pretty.” He sounded like a shy elementary school boy, he knew, but it was the only comment he could make when blood rapidly drained from his head and migrated lower.  She smiled at him and lathered up her hair, switching places to stand under the spray.  Her fingers scrubbed at her scalp, making her breasts bounce, and keeping him fascinated.  She squeezed the soap out of her hair and let it cascade over her torso.

            “I hope you don’t mind sharing,” she said, glancing down.  “I guess you don’t mind.” She squirted soap onto her hands and washed her body, quickly.  She didn’t make a big show of rubbing soapy hands over her slick skin, but it didn’t matter, Oliver was still riveted.  “Thanks for staying, I really didn’t want to be alone tonight, and you’re the only person I want staying.”  He nodded briefly, reluctantly dragging his gaze back to her face.  “I’m glad you came to find me, and I’m glad you’re okay.”  He tilted his head and she clarified, “I’d have understood if you wanted to back off from…us.”  She smiled shyly at him and ran her hands over her face, gingerly touching the bruise on her nose.  “I’m still really glad you’re here... with me.”  She swallowed self-consciously. 

            “You’re really pretty.”

            Felicity laughed and Oliver smiled, reaching out for her and pulling her close.  He embraced her, rubbing her warm, silky skin and closed his eyes, breathing with her.  So many things could’ve happened and brought a very different conclusion to the events of the last few weeks.  Clearly his feelings for her played a part in his response to the pheromone, but there was still a risk she could’ve been harmed by someone else while he was dosing her with it.  A larger dose might have resulted in a lack of restraint in her bedroom and in captivity.  He knew Diggle was right that his inherent protectiveness likely aided in his restraint, but he also knew that they’d been lucky.  If Merlyn had decided to sedate her, or change the mixture of drugs, they might’ve been unable to recover from what happened between them. 

            Felicity focused on the positive, Oliver knew, his ability to deny his baser instincts.  At the moment, his baser instinct was prodding at her belly.  She pushed back from him slightly and ran her hands over his buttocks.  He raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled; it wasn’t a friendly smile. “What are you think- Oh!” Her hand moved to the front of him and she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft. 

            “I’m finding my focus,” she said, pleasantly.  “I don’t want to be afraid to touch you because I might remember something unpleasant.”  She moved her other hand to his shoulder.  “Do you mind?”

            “Uh, no.”  Her boldness pleased him.  She wanted him as more than just a bodyguard and protector.  She let her fingertips glide over his sleek muscles. 

            “You’re so…perfect.”  She turned her face up and he dipped down to kiss her. 

            “Maybe a bit battered,” he said.

            “Even your scars,” she said, insistently, “they texture the landscape, but they don’t detract from it.”  She gave his erection a gentle squeeze, making him jump slightly.  Her fingers gently explored the ridges of muscle and veins.  Thick and heavy, a fine example of the physical evidence of desire. 

            Felicity pressed Oliver back against the tile of the shower wall and slowly dropped to her knees, kissing a path down his damp chest and abdomen.  He dropped his head back as her mouth closed on him.  He bit down on his lip when she started to suck.  The heat and steam of the shower made him light-headed as she continued to work him with her hands and mouth.  She ran her tongue around the shiny head, engorged to its maximum.  She cupped his balls, rolling them gently in her palm and sliding him deep into her mouth.  She gave a few sharp pulls with her mouth and placed one of her hands at his hip, as his legs started to tremble. 

            “Oh, God.” he moaned, softly, sliding his hands into her wet hair and running his thumb along her jaw.  He looked down and seeing the movement of her head, forward and back steadily, had him struggling to breathe. She increased her speed and he had to put his hand on the wall for support.  His breath came in heavy gasps as he climaxed, gripping her shoulder, tightly.  His vision went dark at the periphery for a moment and he steadied himself. 

            “Don’t faint,” Felicity, said, standing up.  “Why don’t you go lie down before you fall, I’ll be out in a minute.”

            Oliver obeyed her order and stumbled out of the shower, the air felt icy against his heated skin.  He dried off and grabbed clean shorts from his bag and waited for her in the bed.  When she returned, damp hair pulled back in a braid, she scooted against his side.

            “Did I ever tell you about my trip to Tahiti?” he asked.

            “No,” she said, looking at him curiously.  He placed a hand on her hip, tucking his thumb under the waistband. 

            “I surfed, I swam, I sat in the sun…”

            “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

            “No, I was just thinking about a popular pastime in Tahiti.”

            “What?”

            “Pearl diving.”  He ducked under the covers and seized her hips, yanking down her bottoms. Felicity laughed as he wrestled her clothes free and pressing his lips to her, intimately.

            “Huh, pearl diving,” Felicity said, chuckling and remembering her vodka-fueled conversation with Laurel Lance regarding Oliver’s bed prowess.  She giggled as his hair tickled her thighs.

            “Something funny?” he asked, lifting his head.  It was covered by the sheet and he looked like a horny ghost.  The vision made her laugh harder and she saw the shrouded head shake back and forth, slowly.

            “Pearl diving,” she snickered to herself, feeling relaxed and safe. She sighed as he returned to his previous activities.  She felt her spine un-kink, as much from the laughter as from his current position.  “Ah, that’s –Oh God!”  Her back arched and her toes curled.  Remembering their first night together she avoided kicking him in the kidneys.  He loved her with his mouth, gently at first and then, as she responded, he followed her signals and had her moaning his name when she climaxed.  He came out from under the sheets with a devilish smile.  He raised an eyebrow and reached into the nightstand drawer, taking out a condom and putting it on his re-animated erection.

            “Ready to go again?”

            “You’re not human,” she panted.  “Okay, I’m game.”  She shifted beneath him and nodded when he gave her a questioning glance.

            “You sure?”

            “Yup,” she nodded enthusiastically.  “Go ahead and start, she said, gesturing to her lower half.  “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

                                   *The End*


End file.
